


Dead Redemption

by KatzeBlue



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Blood, Blowjobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Family, Friendship, Guns, Humor, M/M, No Red Dead characters appear, Oral Sex, Overwatch characters replace RDR2 characters, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, There's a different plot though!, Unreliable Narrator, also things got a little spicy, red dead redemption 2 au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17387375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatzeBlue/pseuds/KatzeBlue
Summary: The infamous Deadlock gang is forced to flee after a bank robbery goes horribly wrong. Desperate for money to start a new life for himself and his family, Gabriel Reyes forms a plan.A plan that makes Jesse McCree rethink everything he's done.





	1. Outlaws from the West

**Author's Note:**

> **Edit from future KatzeBlue:** When I finally complete this fic, this is one chapter I plan on rewriting! I feel like it struggles in comparison to the future chapters (and holds a lot of unnecessary mumbo jumbo ya'll don't needa care about.) First chapters are hard! lol anyway, thanks for giving this a chance if you do. Peace out. ♡

The bank robbery in Blackwater could not have been anymore _fucked_.

The ground thundered beneath the stampede of horses as they raced through the grey cobblestone streets. The city had since retreated indoors, shutters closed with only a few daring individuals poking their heads out to see the commotion of the infamous Deadlock gang contend with hordes of law enforcement. Dozens of dead bodies littered the streets, ranging from citizens to police, coating the walls and roads with a shimmering red in the setting sun.

 _This is it,_ the low raspy voice of his boss reminded him in his head, _the last one. Then we are free! Are you ready to be rich, son? Gonna make bank and blow this muddy joint._

Gabriel Reyes was always an enthusiastic idealist.

 _Free to go where?_ Jesse McCree mused. _I’m sure fancy towns like New York full of rich snobs would roll out red carpets for us. Matches the blood on the outfits, yeah? Our wanted posters would make good headshots. Interested in bein’ a model, boss?_

 _Somewhere far away,_ Gabe said, twisting the brim of his hat and ignoring Jesse’s snide remark. The cigar in his mouth burned a bright red. _You ever heard of Tahiti? Apparently, it’s lovely this time of year._

_What and where the fuck is Tahiti?_

The memory of Gabriel and the gang laughing just a few days ago bubbled to the surface of Jesse’s thoughts at the most inopportune time, distracting him enough to the point he didn't realize his horse steering off course. They had been so sure. So excited to rob the Blackwater bank. Ready to start a new life and turn away from the harsh realities of gunslinging. Gabriel suggested being a fucking _farmer_ at one point. Gabriel Reyes, the infamous gang leader of Deadlock… a _mango farmer_?

A mango farmer with $150,000.

He came to when Bounty whinnied, stopped, and abruptly reared up with a loud noise and a jerk to the reins. Jesse was thrown forward in the saddle, grunting as the leather bit into his stomach. He scrambled to keep the hat on his head from flying off in the gust of wind.

“JESSE MCCREE!” Gabriel’s angered growl came from behind as he unholstered a short shotgun from his side, covered in blood. His preferred weapon of choice. The perfect image of a mango farmer. “What on EARTH are you doing, son? Trying to get us all killed? Get your hide MOVING! That’s an order!” He kicked his heavy boot to the side, catching a lawman off guard and sending the stranger toppling form his horse. His head cracked off the pavement. Jesse didn’t even flinch.

“McCree!” Gabriel growled again, louder and with more ferocity. “Catch up to Ashe! She is head of the escape group and they’re making a dash to the northwest exit of this godforsaken shithole!”

His boss pulled the reins of his stallion to the side and fired the deafening shotgun at oncoming law enforcement. Jesse focused on the noise of death and shouting around him to help pull his mind to the present. He pushed the pained memory of laughter and hope down his chest. Apparently, the outlaw life was the only life Deadlock knew how to live. Blackwater. Gabe. Money. $150,000.

What idiots they were. Who the hell could make off with $150,000 as easily as Gabriel Reyes thought? Not when Overwatch and local authorities were on their tail. Blind and foolish _idiots_.

“JESSE MCCREE, I _SWEAR TO GOD_ , IF YOU DON’T _START MOVING-_ ”

“I get it!” Jesse broke off the beginning of his boss’s angry tirade before he could hear the insults and quick drew Peacekeeper from its leather holster at his hip, landing precise and clean shots in the foreheads of three lawmen. Dead on impact. “Ashe, gang, northwest, got it.”

Without looking back, knowing Gabe was plenty capable of taking care of himself, Jesse spurred his horse into action. Bounty took off at a dead sprint, kicking up dust at breakneck speed. Bullets whizzed past and clipped his already scraped hat and serape as it billowed in the breeze. The high speed was both exhilarating and terrifying. Peacekeeper was a welcome weight in his right hand that helped ground him to reality.

Jesse picked off pursuing lawmen as he flew down the cobblestone. Gabriel was close behind, shouting indistinctly as his shotgun roared. Despite his nerves and the fact his body was vibrating, every shot Jesse landed hit its mark between the eyes of every poor bastard who dare crossed his path. He had yet to meet another person who rivaled his exceptional aim. He hoped he never would.

Bounty threw his head to the side and whinnied as they skidded around a corner. The rest of Deadlock became visible up head, and the gates leading out of this accursed town never looked so welcoming before. Jesse felt his heart flip, seeing the rest of the family a few leagues ahead, plowing their way into the yellow expanses of West Elizabeth's golden fields. The dead grass of the surrounding county looked so beautiful in the sunset. A welcome retreat from all of the cities’ chaos.

Ashe, a woman Jesse decidedly did _not_ like, peered over her shoulder back at him and Gabriel, white hair flipping in the wind as she spurred her horse and aimed her shotgun at another lawman. “About time you showed your faces! Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work for you, boss. I’m sure McCree and you will enjoy your vacation in Blackwater, here. It’s a lovely town. They seem to like us.”

“Quit your bitching and move!” Gabriel growled. “Goddamn.”

With a few more precise headshots and bursting through a few patrols at the outskirts of the city, the thundering of the horses soon became the only noise they heard as the commotion of Blackwater faded in the distance behind them. The alarm bells still rang in Jesse’s ears long after they were out of hearing distance. The sun was setting to the west, casting an unearthly golden glow over the grass and bloody gang. A bunch of golden fools with absolutely no money and no morale.

They rode until every one of them was tired and sore and filthy with sweat. Gabriel would have pushed them further, as persistent as he was, despite the fact it was the dead of the night by the time they began to slow down and stop. Had it not been for Fareeha’s grunt of barely concealed pain and Hana practically falling off her horse in exhaustion, Jesse knew Gabe would have pushed until the horses were dead on their feet.

“Yo, boss,” Jesse pulled Bounty to a slow stop. “Maybe we should pause a second. Gang looks like we’re about to fall apart, yeah? Horses need water and food. Fareeha’s arm looks a lil’ worse for the wear. Maybe we could let Moira take a look at it before she risks losing it? Hana and Jamie-”

“How far from Blackwater are we?” Gabriel asked, barely casting Jesse a glance as he pulled his own stallion to a stop.

Mild irritation prickled Jesse’s spine, but he knew it was likely due to the shitty day and frayed nerves. “I dunno. We been runnin’ for hours now, haven't we? At least a few miles. We can camp in the trees up the ridge, there.” He gestured vaguely to the black hilltop framed by stars. Prayed Gabe would say yes. Sleep sounded wonderful.

“The town of Strawberry ain’t far from here. If we go further we could hide there for a bit.” Ashe pulled her horse up and stuck her nose into their conversation. Jesse swore he saw her lift it toward him in disdain. The absolute gall. Really? Now, of all times? I mean, he might be crusty with dirt and sweat, the opposite of her barely messed up makeup and pristine hair, but boy they just almost _died_.

Despite being a newer member of Deadlock, she always tried her hardest to step on McCree’s toes and gain Gabriel’s favor. Why? He had yet to figure that fun little fact out.

Jesse screwed his face into his best look of contempt and leveled it back at Ashe. Two could play at this game. He was past the point of caring. She wants to be petty at a time like this? Time to be petty back. “I dunno. Strawberries ain’t never really tickled my fancy, Elizabeth. The town is probably as gross as they are. Also, why not stop right now, right here? Oh, nevermind, I know; because you don’t want to do something suggested by me. That’s right, yeah?”

He felt a twist of amusement at Ashe’s genuinely surprised reaction to his boldness and the use of her first name. “Excuse me, McCree?”

“Strawberry is too close to Blackwater for my liking.” Gabriel grunted with an edge of anxious command and a tug to his horse’s reins, immediately halting their argument and clearly not in the mood. "We need to go further if we want to be safe from the mess we made back there.”

Ashe turned her gaze to Gabriel and pursed her red lips in disappointment. McCree was thankful she stayed silent this time.

Hana was the next one to speak. “Not that I’m complaining much or wanting to take any sides, but like, can we stop and camp where Jesse said?” She quipped. “Let Moira look at Fareeha and let the rest of us sleep for an eternity.”

The small Korean gunslinger held an irritated and tired look, thumbing the brim of a hat that was too big for her head yet she still insisted on wearing it. The pistol at her hip seemed dinky and unthreatening in the hands of such a small and skinny girl (especially with the engravings of _rabbits_ on the metal and wood), but Jesse knew better than to push her tiny buttons.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the girl and opened his mouth to speak, likely to insist they kept riding well into the morning hours, but relented when Jesse pushed himself and his horse in his boss’s line of sight.

The gunslinger leveled that equally defiant glare back at his boss. “There’s no use killin’ what’s left of us because you’re afraid, Gabe. If these horses die of exhaustion before we do, we’re dead men walkin’.”

After a few hesitant moments and an intense stare off between the two men, Gabriel snarled. “Fine. Have it your way. Hitch up. We can set up camp on the ridge. I want two people keeping watch at all times, on opposite sides of camp. Jesse, Hana, since you two were _so_ keen on stopping, you can take first watch. Two hour intervals. Everyone else, get some sleep. We leave at dawn. No exceptions.”

 

\---

 

Hours later, after everyone had at most two hours of sleep, they were on the move again. Away from the county and towns they knew. Away for the prospect of a new life. Not as mango farmers, but as wanted criminals with a bounty so high even the richest people in the world couldn't resist. Wanted dead or alive.

Their horses trotted along at a relatively normal pace this time, the initial shock and adrenaline of the failed robbery left behind. Gabriel is leading them east. Where to? Ashe dared to suggest Strawberry again ( _she must have a death wish_ , Jesse thought). After a hard stare from Gabriel, she remained quiet and stopped pushing. Moira mentioned the small town of Valentine to the east in the neighboring county of New Hanover. She knows the doctor there (seeing as they share a strange fascination in questionable medical practices). She believes the gang could lay low in the surrounding area. Bonus? It’s apparently a prettier county than West Elizabeth. Green with grass and trees and next to a beautiful blue lake.

It’s an idea that holds more merit than Strawberry in Gabriel’s opinion (Jesse sees Ashe sneer with a leveled frown to the ground), and he is eager to move forward. The rest of the gang agreed, some more than others. After some convincing and Gabriel’s final executive order, they tore down camp and left little evidence of their presence. It didn’t take them long, and by the time McCree gathered some of his scrambled thoughts, they had already packed the horses and set out.

The ride east is quiet. Little is said between the group as they move, aside from a few brief conversations. It is very rare that everyone in the gang is this quiet at the same time. It gives Jesse time to collect his thoughts, but it’s eerie and unnatural. Everyone was so talkative and elated for their future the few days before the robbery. He is almost thankful for the silence after the stressful previous days, but is saddened nonetheless.

No one has spoken about it yet. It’s an elephant in the room that Jesse is unsure of how to break. Never has the gang failed so miserably. It was almost as if law enforcement _knew_ Deadlock would be robbing the bank that day. The idea raises Jesse’s anxiety. He wants the gang happy again- wants them to move on. They’ve failed a few robberies before. They’ve lost money and morale and been injured before. This should be no different.

A single intrusive thought prodded it’s way into McCree’s head. He tried desperately to ignore it, but it persisted nonetheless.

_They have never failed to this extent._

Jesse peered at his boss’s hard back, trying to get his thoughts to focus on something less depreciating. Gabriel Reyes, leader of the Deadlock gang, notorious for causing trouble all throughout the counties of New Austin and West Elizabeth. Father figure. Friend. He has a silver tongue and the deadly aim to back up his fearless boasts. Over the years, Gabriel has worked hard to ensure Deadlock feels like a family. It’s a band of misfits; of outsiders that have nowhere else to go. A family is exactly what they are. A family is exactly what they will remain until the day they die.

Jesse is considered second in command. His voice holds authority in the gang, but he rarely wishes to order his family around. He doesn't see himself as very persuasive, and works diligently to be the best worker in the group rather than the best leader. He finds his skills in combat more refined than his skills at conversation. He’ll leave the sweet talk to Gabe. The best sweet talk Jesse can mutter is a bullet through the skull.

The redhead on the black mare, Moira O’Deorain, is their resident doctor. Despite the fact her methods are unconventional and rather frightening, no one has died under her watch before. Jesse always aimed to never be on her terrifying operating table. Her fingernails are long and unnatural, and she always has a sinister smirk on her face. It feels like a ghost is brushing past when she casts that smirk his way.

Ashe is one of the newest members. Her real name is Elizabeth, but she insisted from day one that they should call her by her last name. Why? She never really elaborated, but Jesse quickly assumed it had something to do with her previous oppressive family. He would do it every now and again to annoy her, and was always pleased at the annoyed reaction it drew. She was exiled and cut off from her rich family for finding too much fun in small heists and robbing stores. He assumed her parents didn’t want to put up with her entitled attitude anymore. The life of an outlaw comes naturally to the unusually white haired woman. He’s almost envious. When he was young and new, having just turned to Gabe for guidance in the wild frontier, he wasn’t exactly the wisest chicken in the coop.

Hana Song stumbled into their little family while on the run from robbing a gun shop. Jesse hadn’t expected a tiny ball of pink fury and that oversized hat to come crashing out of the Tumbleweed gun shop, a pistol in each hand and laughing like a maniac. The mischievous girl immediately spotted Jesse and Gabriel scouting the town and used them as cover. She had the nerve to walk up to them as if she’d known them her whole life and threw her arms around their shoulders, striking up idle conversation while walking them away from the gun shop. Gabe was immediately taken with her boldness. She was half their size and sauntered up to two armed criminals without hesitation. She’s been with them ever since.

Hana recruited Lúcio Correia dos Santos not long after. The two had known one another, and Hana highly recommended the brazilian doctor’s skills. He’d helped her get out of some hairy situations and wanted to return the favor. The brazilian had recently pissed off the local mining and oil company, Vishkar Industries, by stealing some supplies and picking off a few workers to try to disrupt their assault on the wilderness. Gabriel, despite knowing Vishkar would likely come for Deadlock if they took the small man in to their family, welcomed him with open arms. Jesse, despite excited and happy they would receive a new family member, was hesitant. They had police, Overwatch, and several other rival gangs on their tail. They definitely did not need Vishkar industries breathing down their necks, but Lúcio was a bundle of bubbly joy and enthusiasm. Having young, skilled people like Hana and Lúcio in Deadlock added a fresh, new feeling of happiness to the group again.

Jamison ‘Jamie’ Fawkes and Mako Rutledge came as a package deal. The two were inseparable and were hired guns when Gabriel needed a little extra muscle for a difficult robbery a few years ago. Impressed by their reckless but efficient style (Jamie had a fond fascination with dynamite… and used it for _everything_ …), Gabe offered them a permanent spot in their family. Even if the two of them are nice and cordial with everyone, McCree assumed that the two of them were more interested in Deadlock for a steady income rather than family. They were fun guys, though, and warmed up to the rest of the gang pretty quickly.

Olivia Colomar was caught snooping around their campsite one night and dared to level her revolver with Gabriel’s forehead. How she didn’t die that night is beyond Jesse. It’s almost like Gabriel prefers to be greeted with the barrel of a gun rather than a handshake. Quickest way to his boss’s heart, apparently; gun to the head. Jesse kept note. Olivia was excellent in stealth ops and was a master at retrieving information regarding literally anything, so Gabriel quickly made her their informant.

Fareeha Amari joined at the same time Jesse did. They were practically brother and sister, despite sharing different blood. Fareeha’s mother Ana, second in command of the law enforcement group Overwatch, taught them how to aim and hold their own in the harsh frontier when they were merely preteens. Both kids got into so much mischief without supervision, and eventually Jesse was swayed by Gabriel’s silver tongue and idealistic promises. Fareeha, afraid to lose the only friend she’d ever had, followed Jesse with little hesitation. Despite Ana’s protests, and despite the fact Jesse still viewed her as a mother figure, he followed Gabriel. He loves the Deadlock leader like a father, but Jesse still wonders, decades later, if it was the correct choice to make. He’s dug a grave so large for himself, Jesse is unsure if he could ever come out of it anyway.

Genji was a silent enigma to McCree. The Japanese man with no last name was found half drunk in a saloon and dared to pick a fight with him. His weapon of choice might have been a katana (what's that about the old saying you should never bring a knife to a gunfight…?) but the man was a real life ninja and the cowboy could barely keep up with the unusual fighting style. Jesse maintains the fight was a draw. Genji was nice enough to agree.

 

\---

 

“There it is!” Hana shouted, startling Jesse out of his trance. He followed the point of her finger through the trees and up the hill to the small silhouette of buildings. “Sweet civilization! Am I right?”

“Sweet civilization, indeed.” Gabriel stated with gritted sarcasm. “McCree, Fareeha; ride ahead and scout the town. Don’t know how fast news of Blackwater has traveled. Don’t want to enter a town with our faces plastered on every corner.”

“Yeah, boss.” Jesse said. “I’ll make sure every wanted poster of you has your good angle and your flawless nose. For that modeling job.”

“Don’t sass and get moving.”

Fareeha gave a quick salute and spurred her horse to a gallop. Jesse waved some finger guns back at the gang and followed the woman.

“Finally.” Fareeha sighed as the gang disappeared in the distance behind them. She lifted her hand to gently rub at her shoulder, grimacing. “That ride has been one of the quietest and most depressing of my entire life. All I want to do is something other than run and cry.”

“Things will cheer up once we stop and build a permanent camp.” Jesse stated, eyeing the hand on her shoulder. “You alright, there? How bad is it?”

“It’s nothing.” She deflected his concern, placing her hand back on the reins of her horse. “Moira patched it up nicely. Nothing permanent. I just want to get this all done and over with.”

“Give it some time. Then you and I can go back to shootin’ up some other low-lives and gettin’ filthy rich.”

Fareeha leveled him with a snide smirk. “Since when have we been rich, Jess? You hiding money in that big ugly hat of yours?”

“My hat is mighty offended, little lady. What’d it ever do to you?”

“Assault me with it’s offensive appearance.”

“ _Ho_ ,” Jesse placed a hand on the top of his head, “tell me how you _really_ feel, then.”

“Your nose is gargantuan and you desperately need a bath.”

“Yeah well… your… butt is big and ugly!” Jesse said triumphantly, thumbing at the brim of his offensive hat. “Nailed it.”

“Ah, yes,” Fareeha snickered. She began to slow her horse down as they neared the town. “Jesse McCree, the king of comebacks.”

Jesse pulled the edge of his hat over his eyes. He was thankful that Fareeha was in a better mood and able to joke with him, despite everything that happened the previous day. Just like when they were kids together. It made his heart lift. “I have an A plus ed- _ju_ -ma-kay-tion dear ma’dam. Don’t need fancy words out in this here wilderness. You’re maybe like a B minus, at best.”

“Yeah, Jess? That’s exactly why I’m on the road and you’re about to ram straight into a pole.”

Jesse pulled the hat out of his eyes so fast, desperate to preserve some of his remaining dignity, only to collide his ‘gargantuan’ nose into a tacky wooden stagecoach sign that said ‘WELCOME TO VALENTINE. HAPPIEST PLACE IN THE WEST.’

At least it got Fareeha to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Might rewrite it here in the near future. :/ mostly the middle and end.  
> \- Thank you for at least giving it a chance! I swear (and I’m sure you guys hear this a lot LOL) but I’ve got quite a plot planned here and it’ll get more interesting and intense and better (?) as time goes on!  
> \- Mentions of Hanzo/Shimada next chapter!! And Hanzo appears in chapter 3 :0!!!!!!!!!!!! Hanzo is best character FITE me  
> \- I appreciate any support/comments/kudos/views and love you all <3 thanks for dropping by!


	2. Polite Society, Valentine Style

“Well now, isn’t this a splendid little place? Small. Hidden. Secluded. I love it.”

Gabriel stood at the edge of a small clearing, thumb and forefinger on his chin. Jesse saw the beginnings of the first smile in days appear on his boss’s face. It made the man look younger. Happier. The bags forming under his eyes were less noticeable.

“Good work, Lúcio.” Gabriel turned to look at the small Brazilian boy, who was skirting the edge of the clearing and rustling in a bush like a frog. “How long have you kept this little place in your back pocket?”

Lúcio seemed a ball of boundless energy, eager and excited to get the family back together. He poked his head up from that bush on the other side of the clearing, smiling at them and waving. “I’ve known about it for a bit, but never had much use for it ‘till now! I call it Horseshoe Overlook. Came across it when I was wreaking havoc with the Vishkar’s oil refinery not to far from here a few years back. Used it as a little base for a few days. Good times! Think I left some stuff here by accident a long time ago.” He pulled out a small green harmonica, covered in dirt. “Hey, I haven’t seen this in ages! Camp welcome party on me!”

Gabriel placed his gloved hands at his hips and turned to Jesse, the picture of a confident leader. “Well, boys, I don’t know about you, but I say we should bring everyone in. I’m sure they’ll be excited after all of this stressful travel. Secret. Warm. Away from Blackwater. The river is even right over the cliff. A perfect little place to set up a new home, even if temporarily. You have any opinion, McCree?”

Jesse was simply happy to see Gabriel in a much better mood. “I say this place is mighty fine. Want me to go back and grab the others real quick?”

“Sure, son. Lúcio and I will scout the area for any remaining squatters or pests. Meet you back here in a few.” Gabriel smiled fully this time. Genuinely. For the first time in days. Jesse made a note to thank Lúcio in secret later. “Then we’ll be a real family again. Ready?”

Jesse gave one small salute and jumped onto Bounty, pulling the stallion’s reins. His heart jumped. After the chaos of the last few days, at least something was going right for once.

Horseshoe Overlook. Home.

 

\---

 

“Say, how long have you known Reyes, McCree?”

Jesse had not expected anyone to bother him while setting up camp. Everyone was busy scurrying about and unpacking their saddlebags. Least of all, Jesse never thought he’d hear  _that_ voice address him without a blade in his hand. Their relationship these past few years had been nothing but professional. He dropped the bundle of wooden tent posts he was plucking from the back of his horse and jumped in surprise, sending them scattering across the grass. He placed a hand over his thumping heart.

“Jesus, Genji, ya scared me shitless there for a second.”

The small man bent down and swiftly plucked the posts from the ground with more agility and speed than McCree could ever hope to achieve. He held them out to the gunslinger politely. “My apologies. I was simply curious.”

Jesse eyed the ninja, plucking the posts from his hands. “Why are ya curious now, of all times?”

“No reason.”

“Uh huh,” McCree scoffed, turning from Genji and jabbing the stakes into the ground. What a liar. “I’ll believe that when gaters fly.”

“I believe the English saying is ‘when pigs fly’ if I am not mistaken.”

“Yeah?” Jesse laughed. “Pigs taste better anyway. Gater is too tough. What’s the saying in Japanese?”

Genji took some posts himself and began helping McCree stick them into the ground. Did the man not have his own tent to set up? “A more common idiom would be ‘when flowers bloom on dead trees’.”

“And what’s the idiom for ‘why does Genji wanna know how long I’ve known Gabriel Reyes for all of a sudden’?”

The ninja narrowed his eyes, likely surprised by McCree’s bluntness. A small, defiant smirk appeared on his lean face. “I believe it would be ‘Genji is trying to be more friendly’.” His eyes went wistful as he glanced down, peeling himself away from the work and ensuring that there was a few feet of distance between the two of them. A curiously sudden change of mood. “Although I will leave if you wish.”

Seeing Genji’s face fall to it’s usual stoicism made McCree’s heart twist. The Japanese man was being friendly and actually talking to Jesse for once. The least he could do was offer a good conversation. He lunged forward, clasping the smaller man’s shoulder, ensuring him that he was indeed welcome with a warm smile and a hearty clap. “That’s not at all what I’d like ya to do, partner. Sorry for bein’ a little rude. Yer even helping me put my stuff up without even askin’. Mighty nice of ya. I just sometimes forget what ya even sound like, ya talk to me so little.”

“My apologies.” Genji looked back at McCree, although he didn’t maintain any eye contact. “I do not mean to be so distant. A lot has happened recently, though it is no excuse for being so quiet.” He plucked the rope from the gunslinger’s other hand and went back to work setting up the gunslinger’s dingy tent. “I am simply worried for us. Deadlock, Reyes in particular, have been very kind to take me in over these past several years. I have noticed Reyes appearing more… forlorn. I am worried for him.” He glanced to the forest, lips pulled in a thin line as he absentmindedly tied another knot without even looking. “I assumed that you and Reyes were the closest. I may be silent, but I’m a good observer. Am I wrong?”

Jesse chuckled. “Gabe raised me. Lived with my ma and pa for a little. Ma was great and all. Pa was, uh, not so great.”

“Why do you no longer live with or speak of them?”

The question took Jesse off guard for a moment. Genji had never been so forward or open before. It was a jarring change of pace for the silent enigma of a man. “Ma died a while back. Before I even joined Deadlock. She was a good woman who tried her best, despite the fact I was likely a lost cause. Pa? Watched him die. Wasn’t soon enough, I guess.”

“Oh… I am… sorry.”

“No harm done, past is the past, yeah?” Jesse kicked his boot off of one of the stakes, testing how well it held up. He figured they’d be at Horseshoe Overlook for quite awhile. His place would have to stand up to more than simple sunny weather. “Reyes took me in when I was 14, along with Fareeha over there. I’m 36 now. You do the math. I was an angry little bastard. Dunno how Reyes put up with me. Taught me how to read. Taught me how to live out here in the wild.” He tapped the gun at his hip. An ever present and needed weight. “Even gave me Peacekeeper, here.”

“He is a good role model to you, then.”

“More than that,” Jesse scrubbed a hand down his face, messing with his scruffy beard. He wasn’t expecting his heart to suddenly feel so sad. “He’s been the only real dad I’ve ever had.”

The ninja’s eyes seemed to glaze over for a second, lost in another place.

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes while working on McCree’s lodgings. Jesse was the first to break it. “What about you, partner?” He prodded at Genji with his elbow, laughing as the ninja was caught off guard and jumped. The gunslinger sat down next to the half finished tent, pulling out a small flask from his satchel to share. He patted the green ground next to him in invitation, spreading his tired legs out. “Ya got all these cool ninja skills. You gotta have a much more interesting story than lil’ old me.”

Genji slowly sat cross legged next to McCree on the soft grass, his gaze fixed forward on nothing. He accepted the shared alcohol with little hesitation. They traded the flask back and forth in a much more amicable silence, despite the fact Genji seemed to ignore McCree’s question… or he simply didn’t know how to answer. It was okay, though. Jesse was just surprised Genji even spoke so openly toward him. Blackwater must have really jarred the smaller man.

Jesse watched the rest of the gang as they scurried about the clearing with warm smiles and newfound excitement. It seemed as if they were all young and free of any cares for once. The gang’s change in mood lifted Jesse’s own spirits. Despite the failures they just endured, perhaps it was all for the better.

Genji was quiet for awhile longer, drinking from McCree’s flask. It felt like an eternity, but it was maybe only ten minutes before the ninja spoke again.

“My mother was a wonderful woman.” He offered the flask back to McCree. Alcohol really did seem to help. “She took care of my brother and I quite well when we were young. We were rich and received anything we wanted. She died when my brother and I were still boys, but I can remember her smile.”

“Yeah?” Jesse mused. “Where’s your brother and pa?”

“My brother is… somewhere else. My father? I genuinely don’t know. Last I knew, they were both alive and in good health. I am unsure now. Even if they’re both alive, they are not the same people I once knew.”

“I’m sorry there, partner.”

The two of them were silent yet again. Genji was tense next to McCree, lost in thought. It made Jesse question if this conversation was too much too soon for the smaller man. He could clearly see that the mention of his brother and father brought up unpleasant memories, and the last thing Jesse wanted to do was make the smaller man too uncomfortable. What type of family had Genji come from? Was it truly as terrible as it seemed? How much have they scarred this man’s life? He seemed to have a bright and friendly soul that wished dearly to break free from it’s gilded cage.

Hoping to make the other man feel better, Jesse smiled down at him. “Look, I’ll make ya a deal.”

Genji seemed skeptical. “A deal?”

“Yeah, a deal.” Jesse chuckled as he clasped a hand around Genji’s shoulders and pulled him in tight. “I’ll be your new big brother. We’re all sons and daughters of Gabe, right? I’ll make sure we all treat you like true family, ya hear?”

“That is very… very kind of you McCree. I am thankful. You don’t even know who I am.”

“Naw, Genji. We’re all brothers and sisters here in Deadlock, blood or not, whether I’ve known you for four seconds or twenty years. Thought you’da seen that by now. Just means I gotta reinforce the idea a bit! Also bud, you can call me Jesse. Only call me McCree if yer mad at me.”

“All right, Jesse. But, uh- Reyes calls you McCree sometimes, does he not?”

“Lesson number one of the Deadlock family,” Jesse winked. “Gabriel is always mad at me.”

 

\---

 

Valentine was, in a word,  _filthy_.

When Fareeha and McCree ran their initial search of the small town in search of wanted posters (and relieved to see none), Jesse’s boots were practically filled with mud. It was nearing summertime, making the air wet as a swamp and the ground even worse. There was barely any breeze, and the place stunk worse than the rear end of a cow, but the gang knew they’d have to get used to it. It was their new home for now, after all. Jesse aimed to make the most of it. Their shit covered goldmine.

The first thing on the agenda was to establish a foothold in the area. Scout around for clues. Get some leads as to what they were dealing with. Gabriel may be slightly disillusioned, demoralized, and only focused on impossible ideals, but there was one thing his boss was correct about; Deadlock needed money, and they needed it  _fast_. Rival gangs in the area were sure to pose a threat, and the police force Overwatch had been close on their heels in Blackwater, so it was likely that they’d run in to one of their scouts sooner or later here in New Hanover. They needed money for food, clothes, ammunition, money… it was honestly a shame that money ran the world.

After a couple days of lying low at Horseshoe Overlook, Gabriel decided to kick everyone in to gear. Lúcio offered to snoop around the nearby Vishkar oil refinery and railway station to the northeast. In fact, he was absolutely ecstatic to be poking at the multi-million dollar business again for the first time in ages. He believed that there were a handful of bonds worth at least a couple thousand stored on the property. A couple thousand dollars that could belong to Deadlock very soon. What was a couple thousand to Vishkar’s twenty million? They would likely not miss the money. The business made that fortune by destroying the land, so the justification for such a risky mission was easy. Hana, Lúcio, and Oliva set out to snoop around the refinery with Gabriel’s blessing.

Jamison and Mako were experts at robbing stagecoaches. It was how they got their initial start in the crime business. Both of them knew a man in a place called Emerald Ranch to the east who was more than happy to purchase various stagecoaches in a multitude of conditions. One; stop an unsuspecting bystander with a wagon on the road. Two; aim your gun. Three; threaten and shoot if you need to. If everything goes well, whether or not someone dies, steal the supplies in the wagon and sell it all for a profit. A lucrative business, despite the fact it was very immoral. McCree did not participate in many of their stagecoach heists over the weeks, but he had to admit, it did bring in a steady amount of income.

Ashe was, as usual, more interested in talking with her gun. She and Moira were both interested in growing closer with the local sheriff to get the gang on his good side. As an added benefit, the sheriff had issued a series of bounties on some highly wanted individuals. Shooting people, hogtying low-lives, threatening others at gunpoint, and putting rivals into jail? Jesse could not think of another profession that fit Ashe and Moira so perfectly. The scariest part about the whole situation is that the women were good at it.  _Very_ good, in fact. The sheriff was practically their lovesick puppet by now.

As for Fareeha, Jesse, and Genji; well, the three of them were tasked to snoop around Valentine itself for anymore leads. Gabriel would often come with them, using his silver tongue to endear everyone in town. It had only been a few weeks, but the Deadlock leader was practically a local celebrity. In a good way, for once in his life.

Genji was very good at the stealth portion of snooping around town. While the man did not like speaking with anyone, he was a good listener. Scary good, in fact. Jesse and Genji would often be at the bar, laughing about something funny, when Genji would immediately grow quiet and turn his ear. The first time he did it, Jesse thought the ninja was having some sort of stroke, which was preposterous. Genji seemed in excellent physical health, and the gunslinger was quite convinced he’d have a stroke or heart attack before anyone else in the gang died of illness. The Japanese man informed McCree later that he was simply listening to something across the room, and apologized for being mysteriously distant. The two of them learned a lot of local gossip this way. Which families around the area had money. Which shopkeepers had secret businesses. Which people to avoid at all costs. Which guys and girls to  _strictly_ stay away from and never bed. (Which was, sadly, most of the town.)

Jesse had almost never seen Fareeha dress in anything other than pants and coats, so it was very disconcerting to see her suddenly dressing in more elaborate outfits. Dresses and stockings. Petticoats and corsets. He wondered where on earth the woman got enough money for the outfits. She said she had an excellent lead on the Valentine bank, which made anxiety bubble in the pool of Jesse’s stomach. Sure, the small, dank, muddy town of Valentine was no elaborate city like Blackwater, but the failure of their previous robbery made his skin crawl with dread.

Jesse was currently sitting with Genji in the local saloon, engaged in a game of Blackjack. He was much better at Poker (he felt like Blackjack had a higher degree of luck and McCree felt anything  _but_ lucky), but he humored Genji nonetheless. The Japanese man was surprisingly good at Blackjack. In fact, Jesse found out over the weeks that Genji was good at practically  _any_ game. He was a tad jealous, since Genji made each game look so flawless and easy. But honestly, McCree was happy to have someone else in the gang that was as good at Poker as he and Hana were. As much as he loved the small Korean gunslinger, it grew boring to play against the same person over and over again.

“Twenty-one.” The dealer announced matter-o-factly, drawing McCree out of his thoughts, followed by an excited hoot from Genji.

“Keep ‘em comin’!” Genji radiated excitement as he mimicked the gunslinger’s drawl. The dealer placed a large stack of chips his hand. “Man, Jesse, I haven’t felt this lucky in a long time.”

Jesse snorted and lightly punched the ninja’s shoulder. He hadn’t won a single hand that night and had lost quite a bit of money, but he was still enjoying himself. Jesse was more interested in helping Genji come out of his dark and depressive shell. “C’mon! Radiate that luck to me, fella. I need a seven or lower. Hit for me.”

Genji’s posture wobbled as he whipped his head back to the dealer and motioned toward McCree. “Hit him!”

The dealer seemed unamused by their antics. He probably thought they were drunk. They had only maybe drank three drinks each. Child’s play, really. He drew a card from the deck and turned it face up in front of McCree. A king. Ten points. “Bust.”

“Man!” Jesse tossed his cards forward and pouted. They fluttered uselessly across the table in a colorful heap. It probably angered the dealer even more. “If I wanted a king to bust me, I’d go to Saint Denis and pay for someone good with all this money instead.”

Genji’s eyes went wide and he sputtered at the lewd joke. To McCree’s amusement, he began to laugh loud and with genuine glee, face planting onto his cards and slapping a hand down.

“Can we kindly not break this table? It is saloon property.” The dealer grumbled as he went to stabilize the game chips from toppling under the abuse Genji gave the tabletop. “Are you two playing another round? To be honest, I hope you say no.”

Genji still seemed incapacitated in his laughing fit and buried his face in his elbows. Ooooh-kay. Maybe they were a little drunk and maa-aaybe they had more than three drinks each, but it was all in good natured fun. Jesse answered for him. “Well, fella, if my friend here don’t quit I think he might have a heart attack so we’ll just go cash out.”

“Thank Christ.” The dealer instantly shut the lid to the rest of the game chips and picked them up. “I mean- yes of course. Have a good day. Please don’t come back.”

“Awh, Mister, but yer my favorite person in town!”

The dealer had already turned away and paid them no mind, leaving McCree to deal with two sets of game chips and his half-drunk friend, hysterically laughing on the poor table. Jesse placed a hand on Genji, trying to coax the ninja in to a standing position. His attempt proved futile as Genji crumpled to the floor in more laughter the second he tried to stand.

“You- you-” Genji sputtered as he attempted to speak, taking in large mouthfuls of air in audible gasps. “You made a hooker joke with a  _completely_ straight face!”

“Yeah? I didn’t find it that funny.” McCree shrugged, but felt a twinge of mirth. “The only thing straight about me must be my face, then.”

“Holy  _SHIT_ \- I need you to FUCKING stop, McCree.” Genji choked as another burst of hysterical laughter came from him. “Oh my god.”

It took a few minutes for McCree to wrangle Genji to a standing position, his arm slung over the gunslinger’s broad shoulders. Jesse swiped the chips off the table and began to maneuver the both of them down the saloon steps. A horrible idea, really. Despite Genji’s slender nature, McCree was surprised to find the smaller man to be a weighty ball of solid muscle. Solid muscle that threatened to topple face first down the stairs multiple times.

They hobbled to the counter and McCree exchanged the chips for money. He was surprised to see Genji had won at least one-hundred dollars. The hell? He hadn’t exactly been keeping track of his partner’s earnings, but was glad to see such an extravagant number for backwoods Blackjack. A perfect donation for Deadlock supplies.

Genji slumped on Jesse, groaning.

“Whoa there.” Jesse said. “Look, I just cashed out. Ya made a good deal of money here, Genji. Just gotta get to the horses and we can hightail it back to camp.”

“Nonsense!” Genji pushed the palm of his hand to the side of McCree’s face, ruffling his beard. “I never took you for a lightweight! You ruined our Blackjack fun with your humor, scaring the dealer away! The night has just begun!”

Jesse smoothed his rumpled facial hair back in to place and chuckled. “Lightweight? Have ya looked in the mirror recently?”

“Yeah, and I look ten times better and can hold more alcohol down that you can, cowboy.”

Jesse snorted. “Oh, partner, is that a challenge? You’d best take that back. I’ll win.”

“Judging by your Blackjack skills, I would say you lose.”

The nerve of this ninja. Jesse outright barked in laughter this time. “Well that’s mighty offensive. Blackjack ain’t nuthin’ like drinkin’. Blackjack is luck, drinkin’ is pure skill.”

Genji gurgled. “I’ll buy the drinks with the Blackjack money. First one to pass out or puke loses.”

Jesse’s thoughts tripped on themselves. He knew Deadlock could probably use the money, but the stress of the last few days was certainly taking its toll. The promise of free drinks and amicable company was too enticing. He was allowed to be stupid and carefree for one night, right?

“All right, challenged accepted.” McCree slapped the hundred bucks onto the counter. “And what do I win? A hangover tomorrow mornin’?”

Genji wavered in place. Oh, this was going to be  _easy_. He almost felt sorry for taking advantage of his friend’s inebriated state of mind. “A favor.”

“A favor?” Jesse echoed.

“Yeah like… like a debt. Whoever loses-” Genji hiccuped. “-owes the victor a favor of any sort.”

“Sounds like my kind of game!” Jesse laughed again and turned to the bartender. “We need as many rounds as one-hundred dollars can buy!”

 

\---

 

_Time slipped by, fuzzy and intangible._

_Where were they again?_

_Valentine? Where’s that?_

_Tahiti?_

_Igenj?_

_Who the heck is Ijneg?_

_Jengi? It must be Jengi._

_JENGI? JENGI, WHERE ARE YOU?_

_Oh God, he lost Jengi._

_Jengi was gone forever._

_Oh, never mind, Jengi was on the floor. Looked asleep. Drooled on the floor. Best not wake him. Would be mighty rude._

_Everyone in the bar had drinks in their hand, laughing maniacally._

_They were all so friendly._

_These were the nicest people he had ever known. Brought him to tears._

_Time to dance with them._

_Are they dancing with him? Is this the can-can? Holy shit, who’s in the corner making out? Is that a plant?_

_The whole saloon seemed pretty plastered._

_What’d they do again?_

_Oh… oh he didn’t feel very good._

 

\---

 

“Jesse McCree!” A rough and low familiar voice jarred the rattling in McCree’s brain. A loud ringing persisted in his ears, like a church bell wouldn’t stop chiming. Why did everyone feel the need to yell his full name lately? Angrily?

Jesse jolted upwards, immediately regretting the decision. His hands shot up to his pounding head, shielding his eyes from the morning light that seeped through the tent awning. He groaned. “Ugh, good mornin’ to you too, Gabe.”

In the silhouetted halo of the sunrise, burred by his fuzzy eyes, Gabriel seemed every bit the angel he was named for. Too bad his boss seemed furious. The opposite of angels.

“What in the actual hell did you think you were doing last night, McCree?” Gabriel came closer, stepping under the awning of Jesse’s tent. His face and demeanor radiated complete irritation.

Did Gabriel say last night? God, had he passed out from drinking so much?

More importantly, did he lose the bet?

“Boy, I sure wish I knew what you was talkin’ about.” Jesse wiped a hand down his face, scrubbing at the cold sweat there. He felt filthy.

“Fareeha found you and Genji, shitfaced and barely cognitive!” Gabriel growled. “Genji wasn’t even conscious, and you were so drunk you weren’t even speaking English. You apparently almost punched Fareeha as she tried to wrangle you two out of the saloon.”

Jesse grit his teeth, but couldn’t stop the pained chuckle from escaping his mouth. It seemed pitiful. Oh, but Gabriel said he was  _awake_. “I was still awake when Fareeha came?”

“I mean, you may have been awake, but you certainly-”

“Don’t matter if I was spoutin’ Spanish or complete gibberish or talking to imaginary folk that no one else could see. I was awake!” Jesse said triumphantly. “Means I won.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Gabriel appeared to be at the end of his rope. “What?” He shook his head. “Never mind, I know what you did. I know exactly what Jesse McCree does. Nothing but bad things. How much did you spend on a stupid bet this time, then?”

“Oh boss, ya probably shouldn’t find that out. Would rather spare Genji the scoldin’.”

Gabriel was exasperated, completely done, and incredibly angry. He gave Jesse one last hard stare before gripping his shirt collar and dragging the younger gunslinger out from under the awning.

“Christ!” Jesse staggered forward and stumbled after the older man. He clutched onto Gabriel’s wrist and attempted to break free weakly. “Hold up, ouch! By God, Gabe, my head-”

“Yeah, I’m sure it hurts like a bitch. Oh well. You and Genji have been out cold all night, and Fareeha has a lead on the Valentine bank that she has so nicely waited to elaborate on since you an Genji decided to get drunk. So y’know what? You’re going to come to the camp meeting, because you are a part of this gang and we need your help regardless if you’re dead on your goddamn dumb feet.”

The mention of a bank made McCree’s blood run cold as ice. Oh yeah.

“Besides, all of that money you spent on drinks for the entire town of Valentine could have gone to Deadlock. But for some reason, drinking is more important that feeding your family.”

Jesse huffed. “That ain’t true, Gabe. I work very hard-”

“Shut up and sit here.” Gabriel all but threw McCree to the ground. Jesse groaned and straightened his collar.

It was fairly early in the morning, so McCree was surprised to see the majority of the gang awake and relatively excited. He was further surprised to see Genji on the other side of the campfire, attention on something that Olivia was saying. The ninja seemed to be faring better than McCree in terms of a hangover, making Jesse mildly peeved. No matter- he won, yeah? Fareeha and Gabriel were their witnesses. He’d endure the hangover for this once in a lifetime chance to poke at one of his best friends.

Scratch that; one of his  _brothers_.

He tried to get Genji’s attention by waving, but was stopped when a pair of short, skinny legs stopped in front of his vision.

“Wow, Jesse. You look like shit.” Hana’s arms were crossed over her chest and she was chewing on something.

“Gee, make a guy hungover like no tomorrow feel better about himself, why don’t ya?”

Hana giggled as she plopped down next to McCree and crossed her legs. She plucked a shiny wrapper from her pocket and offered it to him.

“Uh?” Jesse hummed in apprehensive question, taking the wrapper from Hana’s hand slowly. It was chocolate… why?

“It’s chocolate.” Hana said, as if it were the simplest concept in the world. She elaborated when Jesse’s face remained skeptical. “I’ve gotten drunk a couple times before. I get pretty bad hangovers, too. Chocolate seems to make it better for me, so I thought maybe it might work for you.”

Jesse felt a warmth grow in his chest like the morning sun. How nice. The thought that Hana was genuinely trying to be helpful made his hangover already seem less pounding. “Oh, that’s mighty nice of ya.” He paused, opening the candy bar and breaking off half to share. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Hana munched on her half, looking up as Fareeha ducked out of her tent and began walking toward the group. The meeting was about to start. “Old people don’t seem to know all the tips and tricks when it comes to drunk partying.”

Jesse laughed. “I’m that old?”

“You’re ancient.” Hana teased. The devil.

They grew quiet as Fareeha stepped up to the campfire and smiled at the rest of the gang. Dressed in her normal jacket and pants for once and not a dress and petticoat, she looked every bit like the smart and beautiful sister he grew up with.

The gang gathered close. Moira sat next to Ashe, long fingernails resting on her thighs. Ashe slung her shotgun over her shoulder as she kneeled by the fire. Lúcio plopped down next to Hana, smiling at her and McCree. Olivia seemed more interested by the pamphlet in her hand than Fareeha, but she glanced up every few moments. Genji sat on his knees, fists curled at his side as he likely tried to hide his hangover. Mako and Jamie stood in the back, both very interested in what the Egyptian was saying. Lastly, Gabriel brought a stool over and sat next to Fareeha, keeping an eye on all of them.

“Thanks for getting together everyone. Despite the fact some of you,” Fareeha’s eyes shifted toward Jesse, but they held mirth instead of irritation, “decided to party all night. It’s not like we’re in a hurry or anything, running from the police to avoid being arrested.” She laughed. “Anyway, I spoke with Gabriel yesterday about this. I know it’s only been a few weeks since we’ve been here in Valentine, but I’ve found a lead. A lucrative lead. Uhm, it involves the Valentine bank.”

“Another bank robbery?” Moira interjected. “We barely survived the last one.”

Fareeha sighed. “I know, but that was Blackwater. This is Valentine. I’m not talking about a hundred and fifty grand. I’m talking only like, twenty grand.”

“Only twenty grand?” Lúcio seemed starstruck. “Man, I’ve never even seen that much money in person, and you say that like it’s a small amount of money?!”

“We are not saying it is small.” Gabriel stated. “We are saying that twenty grand will not cover the entire group of us hightailing it out of New Hanover. You still want to go to Tahiti? Or New York? We’ll need more, but it’s a good start. We’d only need a few scores afterwards and then we can start our new life.”

“We only need a few people to rob the Valentine bank.” Fareeha continued. “It’s a much safer mission than Blackwater. Less guarded, and the people here are far stupider. We only need a group of four. Far less noticeable than the entire gang. I’ll be the first one to volunteer. It’s my idea.”

“I’ll go.” Jesse blurted without hesitation.

“As will I.” Genji agreed. Surprising.

“Count me in!” Lúcio piped.

Fareeha smiled at the three of them. “Excellent.”

“Are you sure a bank robbery so early after Blackwater is safe?” Ashe challenged. “What if they’re on alert?”

“I have spent weeks watching the Valentine bank.” Fareeha pursed her lips, casting a daring look toward Ashe. Jesse was thankful that he was not the only one entirely fed up with the white haired woman’s attitude. “Our faces are on no wanted posters, and the security of the bank has not changed much. We’d better hit it sooner rather than later.”

“What about those guys in black suits that have been crawling around these past couple days?” Ashe argued. “I’ve never seen them before. Look like nothing but trouble. The sheriff ain't to happy about them either. They been makin’ demands, think they own the place.”

Guys in black suits? Huh, come to think of it, Jesse did notice a few people looking decidedly more clean and well kept than the usual Valentine townsfolk.

To McCree’s shock, Genji gave a straight and pointed answer to their questions. “They are the Shimada Clan.”

“Shimada?” Fareeha asked. “Aren’t those the guys that run Saint Denis? Some big rich Japanese crime syndicate or something?”

“Yes.” Genji answered, his tone level.

“Will they cause us any issue?” Jesse looked at Genji, unsure of whether or not to get up and place his hand on the man’s shoulder. The ninja seemed to have retreated into himself again. Had Genji had run in to these Shimada folk before?

“No. Likely not. I do not know why they have come so far from Saint Denis, but their dealings certainly have never spread this far.”

Gabriel turned his piercing gaze toward Genji. “So they won’t be a problem then?”

The ninja was tense, but held little hesitation in his voice. “They will not be a problem.”

“Then get ready and get those hangovers taken care of.” Gabriel stood from his stool, looking pointedly at Jesse, Genji, and Lúcio. The sawed off shotgun on his hip shined in the morning sunlight like a beacon. Deadly and beautiful. “You’re robbing that bank this afternoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A moment of silence for Jengi. Beaten at his own game. In all honesty though, drinking with Lenny was one of my favorite moments of Red Dead 2. It was like you didn't have a care in the world. If only they knew.  
> \- Blackjack is one of my favorite games as well. AhhhHHHH  
> \- Plot thickens. A nice bank heist next chapter. Also... maybe some Hanzo interaction????¿¿¿¿¿??? ;D  
> \- Thanks for the support!!!!! <3


	3. Banking, the Old American Art

_One of Overwatch's abandoned ranges, overlooking Flat Iron Lake, riddled with debris and dust. The loud shots ringing from Jesse's small pistol had since scared any animal away, leaving the dull silence of wind and water. The sun shone bright as the morning gave way to afternoon, and the empty bottles across the range glistened like diamonds. His first time shooting. Something he will never, ever forget. The memory was so vivid, Jesse swore he could taste it._

" _That's it, habibi." A smoky voice invaded his thoughts. So nostalgic it made his stomach hurt. "You are getting better. Remember, line up the shot before you take it."_

_Jesse huffed, the pistol in his hand warm from overuse. He was so eager to learn, so excited that Ana was willing to teach him how to shoot. All he had succeeded in doing that day was make a fool of himself, though. They'd been at the range for hours, and he had yet to hit a single one of those accursed bottles._

" _Jesse?" Ana placed a hand on his back, coaxing him to look at her. Ever the mother._

" _I haven't hit anything!" He kicked his boot off the dirt, scattering a few rocks. "You say I'm gettin' better, but I can't even hit the target!"_

" _Jesse," Ana soothed, "you are young and have all the time in the world to become a master. You know, hitting the target is not everything there is to aim, little one. You have come closer every shot, and your improvement is commendable. That is why I am praising you."_

" _That don't make no sense!" The nine year old cried, shaking the pistol in frustration. Crazy old lady. "Maybe I just need a better gun. Fareeha hit something with her pistol! Can I try hers?"_

_Ana laughed, a warm sound full of affection. "It is not the gun's fault, little one. When you are older and much more experienced, you will be able to shoot with anything, regardless of what it is."_

_Jesse whirled away from Ana's touch. "I'm not little no more! Stop callin' me that!"_

_Ana ruffled his hair. "You will always be little to me."_

_Jesse stuck his tongue out while trying to get his hair back into place._

" _I'll help you, Jess!" Fareeha slid over to him, her gun aimed at one of his bottles. Smug. "You see, all you gotta do is point and shoot."_

" _I've been pointin' and shootin' all day! Why don't you just mind your own dang business!"_

" _Children, behave." Ana chided. "Perhaps it is time we head back. You are tired and upset, and that is the last thing I want for you."_

" _I just want to hit one target!" Jesse cried. Please. Please don't make him go back to the boring watchpoint. The range was free. Sunny. Open. "Just one! Please, mama! It's all I want to do. It's all I've ever wanted to do! Just one!"_

_Ana relented, kneeling down to Jesse's level. His heart lifted. One. Just one. He knew he could do it. Breathe. Ana said breathe. Breathe and exhale. Slowly. He can shoot with any gun. It doesn't matter. It's all in the eye. Focus._

" _All right, we will get one before sundown. Then you'll be on your way to being the best sharpshooter in the west, habibi."_

 

\---

 

The day rolled by with little incident. In order to keep themselves inconspicuous, Jesse, Lúcio, and Genji remained in camp for most of the day. Gabriel traveled to Valentine once to scope the area out and ensure their plan wouldn't be obstructed by some bizarre last minute change of security. Mostly in the clear, just as predicted. Valentine townsfolk were indeed incredibly stupid. However, Gabriel did bring news of one small issue.

Shimada.

While the bank did not seem to have more security, the Shimada agents did indeed have a larger presence. The men in black suits had yet to pose any real threat to the plan, since Deadlock didn't even know why some buffoons from Saint Denis were all the way up in their small dinky down, but they were unnerving regardless.

As the day went by, Jesse had more time to think. Being cooped up in the camp led to restlessness, and restlessness led to second guessing. Was this the right thing to do? Gabriel ensured they would all go straight after they made enough money from the Blackwater robbery. Live honest, good lives. But they were anything but. Did the people of Deadlock deserve good lives? Did they deserve to be rich? Love and affection? Friendship? Family? He'd killed before. Fathers. Honest men. Honest women. All of them trying to make their own way in life. A better way. A truer way. A way that didn't involve so much killing. Did he deserve to live a good life after ending theirs so mercilessly?

As conflicting as his feelings were, he knew there wasn't much he could do about them. He'd given himself to Deadlock- through and through. Outlaws for life. How could he return to a normal life, when he'd only experienced it as a kid? He barely knew how to function as an outlaw. How could he function as a normal man?

He always thought better on his feet, so he had long ago taken to pacing around the camp. His legs eventually brought him to Gabriel, who was sitting on a stool near his extravagant tent, ledger in hand. The gang members had periodically been donating supplies and money to the camp funds, and Gabriel wanted an exact and detailed list of who was contributing. Jesse knew his name appeared most frequently.

Anything for his family.

"Jesse." Gabriel greeted without looking up from the ledger. "How are you feeling, son?"

"Fine." He lied.

"I'm sure." Gabriel side-eyed him. Saw straight through his words. "Well, are you at least prepared for your heist?"

"As I'll ever be."

Gabriel nodded and shut the book with an audible ' _thwap'_ , placing it gently on the table next to him. His shoulders held an unusual tension to them. "Look, McCree. Before you go, I'd like to apologize."

… what?

McCree must have lost control over the emotions he was showing because Gabriel's eyebrows shot straight up. "Jesse?"

Jesse quickly regained control of his face. "Why for? You done nuthin' wrong."

Gabriel stood up, closing the gap between McCree and himself. He placed his hand on Jesse's shoulder and squeezed. Comforting. For himself or the gunslinger, Jesse didn't know.

"The money you and Genji made last night was yours to do with what you wanted. I should not have been so angry. You give so much to Deadlock already, I shouldn't deprive you of what little fun you have." Gabriel rubbed his forehead as if trying to dispel a headache, grimacing. "Look, Jesse; I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the failure at Blackwater. I'm sorry my plans have failed lately. I'm sorry I yelled at you. That is not the man I am, and that is not the man I ever want to be. I hope you know that."

The genuine  _sorrow_  on Gabriel's face was very unbecoming.

"I know." McCree said.

His boss seemed unconvinced. He looked so old- so  _tired_. The grey in his hair sparkled. God, they'd known one another for so long.

"Why don't we have a talk, Jesse?" Gabriel murmured. "We haven't in awhile."

Oh.

"We are talkin'." McCree murmured back, his heart thumping.

"No." Gabriel ushered Jesse away from the tent. A slow pace. "A real talk, son. No screaming or hollering. Just the two of us. Like old times, when Deadlock was me and you and Fareeha and we didn't have a care in the world." The thought put a slight smile to his boss's face. "Ride with me for a bit?"

Jesse agreed. Stewing on his thoughts alone led him to nothing more than misery. Gabriel had always been an excellent confidant. His boss. One of his best friends. A father figure. Anything he needed him to be, Gabriel was.

The two men hopped on their horses and rode. Rode for what seemed like hours. Where they went, it didn't matter. They were silent for most of it, simply enjoying the countryside. It was a rare moment of peace for Jesse, and he hoped Gabriel felt the same. The horses traveled at a decent pace, hoofbeats a steady rhythm. Birds chirped as they flew around the fields. Even a few deer crossed their path, jumping with some of the most grace McCree ever saw in a living being.

Eventually, but not jarring, Gabriel broke the silence. They had just reared around a small pond that sparkled in the sunlight. "You can tell me what is on your mind, Jesse. It may help both of us if I hear it from you."

Jesse's gaze faltered, his vision unfocusing. How to phrase this without seeming mean? How to tell Gabriel he was afraid without sounding so… pathetic? He knew Gabriel wouldn't see it that way, but it unnerved him nonetheless. He'd never been this hesitant before.

"I don't think the bank robbery is such a good idea." He settled on. Short. Simple. Open for debate.

Gabriel hummed. "Why not?"

"I just-" Jesse huffed. "I don't know, to be honest."

"How can I convince you that the bank robbery is, I believe, a  _good_  idea?"

Jesse chuckled weakly. "I don't know if ya can."

"You underestimate me." Gabriel brought his horse to a canter beside Jesse's, turned in his saddle. "I have a way with words, as you know."

"I know. I just don't think it's worth the risk." Jesse argued. "We been makin' money lately. It's not a ton, but it's a fair amount. We can keep up what we're doin', robbin' and stealin' on the low. We're all good at it. I don't think a high profile robbery is very good for us right now. Still reelin' from Blackwater. Got a high price on our heads, dead or alive. Can't step foot in West Elizabeth anymore without fearin' for our lives."

"But this robbery is not in West Elizabeth."

"I know, Gabe." Jesse muttered. "I just- honestly, I'm startin' to feel bad. Never been so close to death as we were in Blackwater. Jarred us. Made me rethink a few things, is all. I'm not worried for Ashe or Moira or Olivia or them, I know they can handle themselves. But Hana and Lúcio? They just kids. Kids don't know what they up against."

"If I said that to you when you were their age, you would have strangled me." Gabriel laughed. Then, mimicking McCree's drawl with a lighter, playful voice, added: "'I'm eighteen! I'm an adult! Can make my own decisions and everything, Gabriel! Don't tell me what to do!'"

Jesse groaned. "I don't sound like that."

"You're right." Gabriel teased. "Sounds too intelligent."

"Wow, people just wanna  _rail_  on me lately. Fareeha, Genji, Hana, and now you? I become the gang punchin' bag all of a sudden, here? Do I get a say in this?"

His boss laughed, deep and loud. A pure laugh. One he hadn't heard in awhile. "It just means we love you, kid."

It was too tempting. Jesse sneered, copying the voice Gabe made earlier for him. "'I'm eighteen! I'm an adult! Can make my own decisions and everything, Gabriel! Don't call me a kid!'"

Gabriel smiled, though after a moment, it faltered. "Look, Jesse, I understand your fear. I really do. When you and Fareeha were so young, I thought to myself: 'should I be doing this to them? Sending them off to a place they could get shot? Be killed? How would I feel if they died and it was my fault?' But I learned to trust you, and I still do. You and Fareeha, you're my rocks. You've always been there and never let me down. I trust you two with my life, and now I ask you to trust me."

Jesse was surprised. Gabriel thought he didn't  _trust_  him? After everything? "I trust you, Gabriel. How could I-"

"If you trusted me, you wouldn't feel so apprehensive about this heist." Gabriel interrupted. "I've broken your trust because of Blackwater. I understand. It was an ordeal, and I need to regain that trust. But all I ask is that you try."

"I have tried every day for you, from the moment we met." Jesse said.

Gabriel slumped. Seemed touched. Looked away from Jesse but still held the smile. "I know. But I need you to try for Deadlock. Try for Fareeha. For Hana and Lucio. They need you more than I do. Even if you don't fully trust me because of Blackwater, trust in these plans. This heist. Anything we agree on as a group, it's all for the gang. And Jesse, we can't do it without your help."

Jesse's heart was in his throat, suffocating. His mouth was dry as the desert. He could really use a cigarette. His answer was immediate and held no doubt in his voice.

"I'll try."

 

\---

 

The sun, peeking out just over the horizon to the west, painted a streak of red in the purple sky. Jesse was a bundle of concealed anxiety, trying his hardest to keep his dinner down as the four of them rode to Valentine, ready for their heist. Truthfully, he wasn't afraid for himself. Kill him- let him die; his life meant very little. He was more afraid for Fareeha, Genji, and Lucio. The three of them did not deserve this outlaw life. He could never live with himself if any of them were hurt because of something he did or didn't do. The guilt would eat him alive.

He wasn't a very religious man, but he prayed. Prayed that the robbery would go well. Prayed that they made twenty-grand and came out unscathed. Deadlock depended on them,  _needed_  the money. Food. Supplies.  _Anything_. Their new life was so close, within their grasp. All they needed were a few more profitable heists and then they could be good, honest, hard working contributions to society. No more blood. No more killing.  _Good_  men.

Fareeha was dressed in another dress and petticoat, tied tight around her waist to entice their victims. A pistol was discreetly strapped to her leg, and a revolver was hidden under the folds of her dress. Genji had since put on a short black jacket, his belt accented with a variety of terrifying knives and the katana strapped to his back. Lúcio dressed much more baggy, puffy pants tucked into scuffed boots, all concealed in a thin trench coat. A repeater was slung over his back. Jesse opted for his usual gear, serape and hat practically a staple that he didn't want to be seen without, but added another revolver to his belt along with Peacekeeper. For extra measure, despite the fact he knew he probably wouldn't use it.

The ride to Valentine was silence, save for the rustling of the horses. Everyone seemed to share the same anxious sentiment. A deafening silence, filled with a variety of emotions.

As the roads grew more muddy and the buildings of town grew closer, Fareeha flipped her hair back and broke the tentative silence. "All right, guys. Are we ready? Stay quiet as we walk through town. We'll talk when we get in to position."

Lúcio was so giddy, he was practically vibrating in his saddle. Jesse was frightened for him. Wanted Lúcio to see that this was dangerous and that kids his age had no sense robbing banks, but didn't have the heart to diminish the Brazilian boy's excitement. He wanted to be helpful. Wanted to do this. Had since proven that he could take care of himself in Blackwater.

Trust him. Trust.  _Trust. Try to trust him._

Fareeha led her horse to a hitch post on the side of a building. She slid off the saddle and readjusted her skirts with mild annoyance. He didn't blame her, it looked mighty uncomfortable. "Okay, gentlemen. Here we are. Keep it cool and follow me."

The humidity led to a small bout of rain earlier, leaving the town wet and soggy. The wood of the shop porches dripped with rhythmic ' _plips_ ' as they walked down the main road toward the bank. The town was quieter than usual this evening. Ominous. The air was chilly. Jesse shivered.

As they neared the bank, Fareeha rounded their small group to a side alley. Groaned at the mud that began to cake on her skirts. She turned to them, fidgeting with the front of her dress and undershirt. "So, let's decide as a group. I was gonna go in and create a scene. Reel them in while you three wait outside. Then we execute the plan inside. Sound good? Any objections?"

"Sounds fine." Jesse agreed.

"Whatever you got planned!" Lúcio added.

Genji remained silent.

"What do you boys want me to do- lost little girl looking for her gentlemen friend that up and left? Or… drunken harlot who has no idea where she is?"

Jesse heard Genji's snort. The gunslinger couldn't help but chuckle himself. He knew their answer. "Think that drunk harlot would be our best bet, sis. You had excellent teachers last night."

Fareeha narrowed her eyes at him and sighed. "Of course. Why did I even ask? I should have predicted that answer." She flipped in to character so fast, ready for anything. She pointed vaguely at the three of them and stumbled sideways toward the doors. "You boyish are just a buncha- FILTHY sinners the lot a'ya!"

The three men laughed as Fareeha stumbled up the stairs to the bank, falling through the double doors and out of their sight. Jesse pulled the bandana around his neck up over his mouth and nose, concealing his identity as much as he could. Genji and Lúcio followed suit. Man, Jesse had never seen her plastered before. She was usually so sober. Seeing her in this state, whether fake or not, brought an amused smile to his face.

"She's good." Genji praised as he took his place at the side of one door, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms. Lúcio took his place on the other side of the door, taking the repeater off his back and flexing it in his nervous grip.

Jesse casually stood next to the porch railing and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and taking long a puff. He breathed out through his nose, pride in his chest. "She's good at almost anything."

Fareeha's upset shouting came from behind the closed doors. "Where is he! Where'za that man! Haaaave you seen him?!"

"Miss!" A man's voice rang out, defensive. He seemed almost frightened. Rightly so, really. "I don't think you should be here. Do you need-"

"I'm not leavin'-" Fareeha hiccuped. "-'till I find that boyo! Up an' leavin'! Stuck up an' stuuupid!" There was an unpleasant banging, followed by a gentleman's yelp. Some broken glass. "There you are you uncultured pig!"

Another man's voice. "I don't even know you!"

"LIAR!" She cried.

Lucio flexed the repeater in his fingers again, eager and ready. He planted both his feet on the wooden slats of the porch and looked at McCree expectantly. "When do we go in?"

"Let her reel them in nice and tight." Jesse's hand hovered over Peacekeeper's handle. Ready to charge in at the first sign Fareeha needed help. "She'll give a right signal. We'll know it."

The first man sounded out again. "Miss, do you need help? We'll escort you to the sheriff's."

A slap. Yeowch. "Where are manners in boys these days! Whoa, hold up- get your hands off me!"

Confusion from the man. "Ma'am? Do you feel better? Your voice-"

"Get your goddamn hands up!" The click of a revolver. Showtime. Ready to go. "This is a goddamn robbery!"

Jesse was the first to burst through the double doors of the bank, Peacekeeper drawn, loaded, ready. He aimed forward, looked to his side and saw Fareeha holding a large man in a chokehold at gunpoint. Lúcio and Genji burst in to action, both men scattering around the lobby of the bank. Lúcio, despite his nervous jitter, held a group hostage in one corner, while Genji unsheathed his menacing katana and held it at the ready.

"This one came through the teller gates." Fareeha pressed the barrel of her gun to the temple of the frightened man in her grip. She looked up at Jesse and gestured to said door with a flick of her head. "Should be unlocked then. We're good. We'll hold out here. Be fast."

"You got it." Jesse walked briskly toward the barred door, pushing it open with his free hand and held his gun up at another frightened teller on the floor there. The man looked small. Pathetic. The glasses on his face were cracked. Must have hit his face on the ground in his panic. Jesse felt mildly sorry for him, but not enough to warrant a reaction.

"Please, sir!" The man turned on the floor, holding his hands up in defense. A coward. Shakily, the teller stood up. "We don't even have a lot! The vaults-"

"Oh, you think we're here for fun?!" Jesse growled as he held the man's gaze, Peacekeeper cocked and aimed between them. The gunslinger walked forward, closing the gap and grasping the front of the teller's outfit. He pushed the two of them forward, slamming the teller through the door leading to the back office. Glass shattered. The teller screamed.

"You're crazy!"

Jesse looked out of the corner of his eye around the new room. The large imposing doors of a vault stood a few feet away. Bingo. Without remorse, the gunslinger threw the teller toward the doors, flicking Peacekeeper up and readying it with another click. He gestured to the dial with the gun and aimed for the man's head. "Open the goddamn vault!"

Hands up. "But I don't-"

" _Open it!_ "

The man yelped and turned, grasped the knob with clammy hands. Shaking uncontrollably, he turned the dial. For a few moments, the only things Jesse heard were the tumbling of the lock and uneven breathing.

"You'd best hurry up there, partner. Don't got all day." Jesse flicked Peacekeeper again, keeping the gun leveled at the teller's red and sweaty face.

"I'm trying. Lord, I'm trying! Give me a moment! Please!"

It felt like an eternity, but the teller finally got the fault lock to click loose. The man pulled the heavy door open and fell straight on his ass in his hurry.

"Stay yourself there and don't make a peep." Jesse brushed past the frightened teller on the floor, not even sparing him a second glance.

For the inside of a vault, it looked homey and inviting. A desk stood to his left, a luscious potted plant and lamp sitting on it. Picture frames framed and placed with the utmost care on the walls, perfectly straight. To his right, their target. Five pristine and glistening ebony safes, slotted in burgundy wood.

"I'm in!" Jesse shouted out the vault door. "Got five deposit boxes, all locked up nice."

Genji appeared. The teller shouted weakly as the katana was swung in warning at him. The ninja dug around the back of his belt, pulling out two red bundles of-  _oh my god_.

"Jamison was nice enough to supply the dynamite." Genji laughed as he tossed it casually toward McCree.

Jesse yelped, catching the bundled dynamite with a shuffle. "We blowin' this place up? Wait, that was the  _plan?_  That's gonna make a scene!"

"We cannot sit here for an eternity and crack the safes. It's not practical, and we already made a scene." Genji argued, turning away from McCree. "Gabriel agreed. We probably will not be able to show our faces in this town again for awhile. Might as well go out with a bang!" The ninja laughed. Of all times to make dumb jokes.

Jesse clicked his tongue in his dry mouth, pulling the dynamite sticks apart. Well, at least this would be over quick. "All right, partner. Stand clear."

Genji grabbed the teller by the front of his coat and dragged them out of view.

Breathe. Explosions. Don't blow the whole goddamn bank to oblivion. Don't blow up the money. Nope. Jesse carefully fixed the dynamite sticks to the front of each deposit box. He never liked explosives. This is why they had a demolitions expert in their gang. Lord, where was Jamie when you needed him? McCree was no good with this stuff. Knew how to kill a man dead with the flick of his wrist and a bang, but dynamite was a whole other beast.

Once the dynamite was all fastened to the vault doors, Jesse whipped out his cigarette lighter. Hurriedly, he lit each wick and then hightailed it across the room. The desk would have to do for cover. He grasped his hat and braced against the solid wood. As predicted, the dynamite exploded with one of the most deafening bangs Jesse had ever heard. He grasped at the floor from the force of the explosion, feet planted firmly to prevent himself from sliding. After a few hesitant moments, he peeked out.

The wall remained surprisingly intact. All five deposit box doors had crumpled, open.

"Hot damn!" Jesse laughed, dazed with delight. He practically vaulted over the desk, whipping out his satchel. Sure enough, there was four thousand in each box, glittering green even in all of the smoke. Twenty thousand in total.

Fareeha. Fareeha, how  _goddamn great_  was Fareeha?

The gunslinger shoved each wad of bills into his satchel and exited the vault. Genji waited for him expectantly, the teller under his katana.

"From the look on your face, it looks like we are good." Genji smiled.

"You bet!" Jesse patted the satchel. "Gotta thank Jamie later. That's some great stuff. Although I really don't wanna handle it on a daily basis."

"Gentlemen!" Fareeha called from the lobby. "You'd best hurry up! We got company after that explosion!"

Genji cast the frightened teller aside. Screw it. Jesse followed the ninja through the broken door, cursing as Fareeha and Lúcio came in to view. Both teammates held their guns ready (Fareeha had since pulled out her additional pistol) and aimed them at the doors.

"What we got?" Jesse asked as he reared up behind the two of them.

"Bad news." Fareeha murmured, eyes never leaving the windows.

Jesse followed her gaze outside of the bank windows and sure enough, it was bad news. Their worst nightmare. Oh boy. How had Gabriel missed this?

"Assuming no one in there is dead," a gruff, frightening, familiar voice sounded out, "you won't swing. Come out with those hands up."

Jack Morrison.

Leader of Overwatch.

Followed from West Elizabeth.

Boy howdy, they were  _fucked_.

"What will we do?" Lúcio asked. The boy looked genuinely frightened for the first time since Blackwater. "That's Morrison! Does he know it's us?!"

"Don't know." Fareeha seethed. Her fingers flexed on the triggers of her guns.

"How many?" Jesse stared out of the bank, wide eyed and wild. He knew what he had to do. Dreaded the thought, but his mind was already made up.

"How many?" Fareeha echoed, confused.

"How many men?!" He didn't mean to snap at her, but his heart beat fast. Felt like he was having a heart attack. Was he?

"Oh," she flicked her gaze to him, "maybe a good twenty. But there's more bad news. Some of them," she cursed, "some of them are Shimada."

Genji looked away, katana lowering.

 _What?_   _Shimada?!_  "You said they'd be no harm! What a fat sack a  _shit_  that was!" Jesse turned and yelled at the ninja. Knew he shouldn't. It came out harsh and blaming anyway.

"I did not mean for this!" Genji defended, katana whirling as he faced McCree. "Jesse, I swear, I know them! I know who the Shimada are, and I have no idea why they are all the way up here, working with  _Overwatch_  of all things!"

Jack's rough voice sounded out again. Fuck him. "You boys have thirty seconds before we march in there! Come out with your hands up and we won't kill you!"

"Don't fight." Fareeha scolded the two of them. Reminded him of her mother. Oh. "Of all the damn times, don't yell at each other now!"

"Is it just Jack?" Jesse muttered. "Is Ana out there? Lena? Angela?"

"I just see Jack." She answered, apprehensive.

Jesse shouldered past Fareeha, pushing the satchel of cash into her hands. "Move, then."

Fareeha grabbed at his arm before he reached the doors. He spared her a look. The woman was angry, and it showed on her face, but under that initial anger, he saw fear. Pure, unbridled fear threatening to break free.

"Don't kill yourself, Jesse. I know what you're doing." She bleated. "There's so many. Twenty men. Dead-Eye has never killed  _twenty_  in one go. You didn't even use it in Blackwater, why use it now?"

She shouldn't be frightened for him. He didn't matter. By God, he didn't matter at  _all_. All that mattered was that his family  _made it out alive_. "There's no other options. We don't got time for this."

"Jesse, please!"

He ripped his arm from Fareeha's grasp, ignoring her plea.

_Sorry, sis._

He was going to get every single one. Right between the eyes. Even if he died doing so.

He ripped the bandana off of his face. If he was going to kill Jack right here, he wanted the policeman to know  _exactly_  who it was.

Everything slowed down, as it did every time he summoned Dead-Eye from deep within himself. The calm before the storm. The tumbleweed passing in front of him. The doors opened in slow motion. Peacekeeper's cylinder turned in his grasp.

 _You have a gift, habibi._  Ana's smokey voice invaded his mind.  _A deadly gift. You really are the best sharpshooter in the west, aren't you?_  She had laughed then. She probably wouldn't laugh now.

_It's all in the eye. Unique and powerful. Never seen it before. Makes its own bullets, somehow. Aims for you. Kills for you. Use it wisely. Remember, it's all with your eye. Aim with the eye and your hand will follow. Instinct. Magic. It kills and leaves no survivors. Precise and quick. Only use it on your worst enemies. Habibi, please. Jesse, listen to me. Only on the people you truly and utterly want dead._

The skulls lined up as the doors closed behind him, deadly and beautiful. At least twenty. Fareeha was right. It was just Jack with an army of unfamiliar men.

Thank goodness.

He felt his right eye fill. His vision turned red. A stone cold killer. It's all he was and all he was good for. Peacekeeper flicked up. His other hand came up to the hammer. Their attackers ducked for cover. Too late.

" _Draw._ "

One by one, the black suits of Shimada and policemen fell. Blood spurted. People screamed. Time sped up once again.

Jesse came to, his red vision draining and leaving behind a sickly hue. He coughed, out of breath. Peacekeeper fell from his grip as he slumped forward.

"By God!" Jack. How the fuck was Jack still alive after that? Dead… the Dead-Eye? " _Jesse McCree?!_ "

Jesse faltered, sick. The aftermath of the magic. His vision fuzzy. Where were they again? Valentine. Fareeha. Genji.  _Lúcio-_

McCree didn't have time to dwell on the thought. Pain erupted in his shoulder. Heat bloomed as it drew blood and stained his jacket.

Holy shit. Did Jack just shoot him?

It didn't feel like a bullet. It felt dull and heavy. It hit him with a commendable force. Felt like a knife. Like Genji's.

Someone came around him, hands grasping his chest and keeping him on his feet. He swiveled his head to look to his side. Saw Fareeha's blurry face as she leaned into him.

 _No_ , he tried to speak.  _No,_   _stay in the bank! Please!_  All that came out of his mouth was a groan.

"Jesse, you idiot! Killed a lot of guys but you're still an idiot!" Fareeha scolded. God, she was so much like her mother. She yelped as something whizzed past, a shrill whistle. She pulled the gunslinger aside, stumbling as they made their way through the alley they had gathered in before this mess. He stumbled alongside her.

"Is that a freaking  _arrow_  in McCree?" Lúcio gasped. Sounded uninjured, just surprised. "Someone shot an arrow in the middle of a Valentine  _gun fight?!_ "

"Run!" Genji seemed frantic. A few shots rang out. Did the ninja have a gun? How ninja-y. "The horses! Run and do not look back!"

"Stop them!" A low, curt, demanding voice rang out. He hadn't heard it before. Sure wasn't Jack. Jack didn't have nearly  _that_  nice of a voice. "Agents, pursue!"

Fareeha moved her hand up, touched the side of McCree's face. "Jesse, I know that took a lot, but I need you to focus." She patted his cheek. "Jess, can you hear me?"

"I-" He choked. His vision remained blurry but was slowly focusing. He managed to get a sound out of his throat. "I hear you, 'Reha."

"Get on." She breathed, shoving him toward Bounty. When had they made it to the horses? "Can you ride?"

"If- if I can't ride, Bounty'll sure ride for me." He breathed and climbed up on said stallion with Fareeha's helpful push. Willed his vision to clear faster. Needed it to. His shoulder hurt like a bitch.

Genji thrust something into his hand. He looked down and saw Peacekeeper. "Sorry I borrowed it, cowboy."

Jesse chuckled weakly. "Can borrow it anytime, partner."

After Fareeha, Genji, and Lúcio hopped onto their respective mounts, the four of them reared up and took off at breakneck speed.

"They're following! We can't lead them to camp!" Fareeha shouted above the whirl of wind in his ears. "They'd kill us!"

Jesse looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was a pursing party. At least five men. Two at the head, and three flanking.

Well… five guys were better than twenty.

Jack was one of them at the head, horse whinnying as if in pain from the brutal pace. Jesse could remember the older man a long time ago, a smile on his face, barely any wrinkles or scars marring his stubbled chin, and a mop of well kept blonde hair. The good old days, when he was a kid with no cares in the world. The man pursuing them was an echo, hair greyed and face beat up all to hell. Beside him, a wide shouldered Japanese man with a deep blue tie tucked into a beautifully elaborate vest, black hair (aside from the fans of grey on the sides) pulled up in a high ponytail.

He looked significantly more kept and well put together than any other Shimada agent.

Who the heck was this?

Wait… was that a bow in his hand?

Oh yeah… that sure  _was_  a bow in his hand. The archer twisted in his saddle, raised said bow and knocked an arrow.

"Look out!" Jesse whipped around. Felt sick. Please don't puke. Dead-Eye took more out of him than he originally thought. There had been  _so many men-_

An arrow whizzed past his ear, scraping some of the hair there. It lodged itself into the backside of Lúcio's horse. It bucked and roared, veering sideways. Lúcio jerked the reins, startled. "Hey, hey now! Please, big guy, I need you to keep moving! Whoa!"

The small man wobbled in his saddle as the horse grew increasingly restless. Jesse steered Bounty up next to them. "Jump over, fella! I'll catch ya!"

Lúcio looked up at McCree, wide eyed and shaking, but nodded with determination. Bless his soul. He hopped up, placing his feet on the saddle, and jumped at McCree for dear life. Jesse caught him as he stumbled onto the back of Bounty, grasping onto McCree's arm and refusing to let go. The arrow lodged in his shoulder burned with the strain.

"Yield!" The archer shouted. "Before I shoot another!"

"McCree!" Jack added. "McCree, stop! Stop right now and none of you will die!"

What a liar. Wanted, dead or alive in Blackwater. Jack never stopped. Always kept going. Always hit his target. Jesse aimed to be the first one he ever missed.

A loud airy whistle blew out across the fields.

"A train!" Genji gasped. "Cross it! The tracks! Cut them off!"

Jesse looked up, peered down the train tracks. There was a train indeed, by sheer dumb luck, but it was coming in fast. He gripped Bounty's reins and spurred the stallion harder than he'd ever before. Sorry, boy. "Hold on tight, Lúcio!"

The gang members booked it, horses driven in to overtime as the train neared. It was a race for their lives. Both the longest and shortest moment of McCree's sad existence.

"Are they crazy?!" Jack exclaimed. Yep. They were. "Hanzo, stop! They're trying to beat the train!"

The train came up fast, but so did the gang members. Fareeha was the first to cross, safe on the other side. Genji followed soon after. Jesse swore he saw his life flash before his eyes as the headlight of the train shined on him, but the train whipped on by.

Bounty came to a skidding halt as Jesse jerked the reins.

They made it. Safe. Split from their pursuers. The train whipped past, a secure wall of metal and steel. Thank God for modern engineering.

Lúcio clung to McCree's back. Man, that boy had a grip. He could barely breathe. "Whoa… that- that was awesome!"

Fareeha and Genji were panting and slumped in their horses.

"We okay?" Jesse asked, looking between them all.

"Yeah," Fareeha wheezed. She adjusted the satchel slung over her shoulder. She still had the money! "Dandy."

"McCree!" Jack shouted above the clicking of the train against the tracks. Jesse peered over, looking at Jack and the mystery man. Didn't Jack say Hanzo when they were crossing the tracks? They were periodically blocked by the railcars. He could see the Japanese's man stern gaze, shoulders drawn back and taut. The definition of a killer. Despite the fact the train was separating them, he had that bow at the ready.

Jack cupped his hands next to his mouth, trying to shout over the roaring of the train whistle. "McCree, please! Just come! How did you make it here? Where is Gabriel? Is that Fareeha behind that mask?"

"Classified information, partner." Jesse tipped his hat. Smug to have thwarted Jack's pursuit. Thanks, train. Owed ya an imaginary drink. He jerked the reins of Bounty as Fareeha and Genji turned, barely giving their pursuers the time of day. He saluted. "Gotta get goin', officer. Sorry! Hope the train keeps you waitin' for a while!"

"Jesse McCree," Jack grunted, flabbergasted, "you cannot kill all of those men and then just  _leave!_  You are better than that!"

He ignored Jack and turned around fully, following Genji and Fareeha back to camp.

Twenty-thousand dollars richer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'm sick again. Huzzah. :) I'm chronically sick ughhhhh  
> \- ANYWAY, there's the next chapter for you! Some parent bonding, sibling bonding, and a bank robbery! Also HANZO  
> \- Some of the dialog of the robbery was taken straight from RDR2! Honestly, Red Dead writers are a godsend thank you  
> \- Thanks for the support! <3


	4. Who the Hell is Hanzo Shimada?

With the adrenaline high of almost dying to Jack Morrison, Overwatch, Shimada, a mystery man (maybe?) named Hanzo, and a damn train, Jesse McCree was in an  _utterly_  foul mood.

Fareeha, Jesse, and Genji all agreed to split and enter camp at separate times, ensuring that they kept their profile and location as discreet as possible. Genji informed them that he'd be a little later than normal, wanting to investigate the Shimada's involvement with Overwatch a little further. Lúcio, with his horse taken out by Hanzo, stayed with McCree, tending to the arrow injury in the gunslinger's shoulder. Fareeha tossed the satchel of cash to them, informing Jesse that since he was injured and that he and Lúcio were riding the same horse, they should go to camp first. Also, because Jesse apparently looked like he could faint at any moment. Thanks, sis. As if he didn't already know he looked like shit.

The trek back to Horseshoe Overlook was brisk since Jesse did not want to waste any time, and his shoulder throbbed. Lúcio had since patched it up to stop the bleeding, but the smaller man informed him that he needed more medical attention at camp with proper supplies.

However, more importantly, Jesse had a  _thing or two_  to say to Gabriel.

He was silent, thankful for the knowledge that Lúcio was safe behind him. It wasn't that he was mad at the kid; Jesse was mad at the situation and didn't want the boy to receive any undeserved fallout from his sour mood. Lúcio had been excellent on the heist and kept out of as much trouble as he could. McCree couldn't have asked for more.

Jesse took the long way, steering Bounty through a gaggle of trees and circling around the camp before heading towards it. The sun had since set, casting them in darkness, and Jesse was fairly positive they weren't being followed after their display in Valentine anyway. Hopefully. Cross his fingers. He couldn't handle much more without some sleep. As they delved deeper into the trees, a small golden light appeared in the distance. He followed it, keeping his gaze fixed on the fire as it grew larger and brighter.

Jamison was keeping guard outside the camp, looking incredibly bored with his fist under his chin. He sat on a large boulder with his legs drawn up. The demolitionist perked up immediately as Jesse and Lúcio came closer.

"Ey!" Jamison squinted, one hand going over his eyes as his back straightened. "Who's there?"

"McCree." Jesse answered dryly.

"Ha-ha!" Jamison all but bounced off the boulder, barreling after McCree and Lúcio at full force. He walked alongside them as Jesse steered Bounty to camp. "How was the plan? Did it work? You guys injured? Hey, is that Lúcio too? You got the money? Where's Fareeha and Genji?"

Jesse tensed and bit his tongue, trying not to snap at the eager man. Lúcio must have felt the tension since he answered for the both of them with a laugh. "Hey, man! I can tell you we're all okay and we got a surprise for the gang! But let us get off and rest a sec'."

Bless him.

Jesse hitched Bounty to the posts and helped Lúcio down. Gabriel practically flew out of his tent, door flap slapping loudly.

"Jesse! Lúcio!" Gabriel jogged to them, wide eyed and ecstatic. "Thank goodness you're both okay!" He reached forward as if to embrace them. "What about Fareeha and Genji?"

Jesse grit his teeth. The nerve of this man. The second his boss was close enough, he shoved him back with commendable force. "What the actual  _fuck_ , Gabriel?"

Gabriel sputtered, planting his feet firmly on the ground as he regained his footing. He looked at McCree, confused and slightly hurt. A hint of anger. "What the actual  _fuck_ , McCree?"

"Jack Morrison was there in Valentine, is what the actual  _fuck_  is!"

His voice was raised and more aggressive than it'd ever been toward his boss. Jesse knew he was making a scene, evident by the surprise on the faces of the Deadlock gang as they came near the campfire. Whatever. He needed to say this. Venting was healthy, yeah?

"Jack?" Gabriel breathed, pure surprise. "Jesse-"

"Don't  _Jesse_  me!" McCree pointed an accusatory finger. It hurt his shoulder to move so fast. "You scoped out the place earlier. How the hell did you miss Jack Morrison and an army of fuckin' police?!"

"Son-"

"You put us all in danger 'cause you apparently can't use yer goddamn eyes! There were even Shimada! Shimada  _and_  Overwatch!" Jesse was seething at this point. "They could be comin' to camp as we speak!"

"Jesse-"

"Followed all the way from Blackwater!  _Gabriel_  fuckin'  _Reyes_  how did you  _miss that?!_ "

"McCree-"

"You put Fareeha in danger! Genji! Lúcio! Lúcio almost fell off his goddamn horse! We lost it in the shuffle! He coulda died! There was an  _army!_  We were almost run over by a-"

_WHACK._

Gabriel just… Gabriel just  _punched_  him.

Jesse reeled back with a shout and held his jaw, pain erupting in the joint. He gawked at Gabriel, silent. Surprised. The older man had never actually hit anyone in Deadlock before, let alone McCree.

Gabriel must have seen his error in judgement the moment Jesse made a sound. The Deadlock leader jerked his hand away as if burned, stared dumbly at the offending limb. The rest of the gang stood on the sidelines in amazement, fire cracking in the complete silence.

As if on cue, they heard the gallop of a horse come to camp. Jesse looked over to see Fareeha dismounting. Her skirts were torn. Sweaty and disheveled but safe.

"You made it! Jess, did-" She cut off, looking around at the amazed faces, Jesse clutching his jaw, and Gabriel staring at his fist. "-uhhh?"

Lúcio burst forward, satchel in hand. He looked between Gabriel and Jesse, tentative, but tried to lighten the mood a little. Bless him. Again. He opened it to show everyone the funds. A nice diversion. "Hey guys, we got the money! Fareeha was right! Twenty-grand!"

That seemed to draw Gabriel out of his haze. Of  _course_  it did. "What? You guys did it?"

"Yeah!" Lúcio piped, a tad happier. Total glee. "Genji should be here a little later. Wanted to do something else before coming to camp. No one was hurt! I mean, besides the guys Jesse killed. Oh, and my horse. Liked that horse…"

Gabriel shuffled to Lúcio, jerking the satchel out of his hands. He ripped open the top and looked inside, dumbfounded. "You actually did it." He said stonily.

"No thanks to you." Jesse sneered, hand still holding his jaw.

Gabriel looked up at him, expression twisting in despair.

"We should celebrate!" Hana cheered, eyes twinkling. "We're rich!"

Ashe scoffed. "Twenty-thousand hardly makes us rich."

Jamison cheered alongside Hana, ignoring Ashe's rude remark. "Rich! Rich! Rich!"

Mako silently pumped his fist in the air to Jamie's chant. Lúcio hugged Hana, laughing. Moira actually looked happy, genuinely, and not the least bit menacing. It was honestly weird. Ashe rolled her eyes, but had a smile on her face as she placed her shotgun on her shoulder. Olivia waltzed up to Gabriel to look at the money, her face lighting up like a spark.

Jesse couldn't help it. His jaw hurt. His shoulder hurt. His head hurt. His pride hurt. But, even after their near death experience, everyone in the gang looked so happy to receive the money. Successful. Was it worth killing all those men? Worth confronting Jack again? Yes, McCree concluded. Necessary steps in order to make it to their ultimate goal. Free and honest men.

His conscious and mood felt a little lighter.

.

A few hours later, Jesse sat outside Moira's tent, letting the doctor look him over. She was diligent, patching up his shoulder and another arrow scrape on his face he hadn't even noticed. The woman would usually scold or tease him when he was the focus of her practice, but this time, she was unusually silent. Fareeha sat to his side, dressed in her usual jacket and pants again. She was recounting everything that McCree couldn't quite remember from his hazed state to Moira, ensuring that the doctor looked over everything she needed to.

A small celebration had broken out in the middle of camp, led by Hana and Lúcio of course. The gang all gathered by the crackling campfire, pulling up chairs, food, and drinks. Lúcio had whipped out his harmonica, sat on a log by the campfire, and played a  _mean_  melody. He tossed his head back and forth, dreads whipping with excitement. The boy had excellent musical skills, and a knack for putting everyone at ease. McCree barely felt much anger toward Gabriel anymore. He was sure it would come back eventually, though. After the party.

Hana, Jamison, and Olivia danced next to the campfire, all busting out to Lúcio's beat. Ashe even tapped her foot while she observed them, arms resting on her knees as she leaned forward and sat. Gabriel, despite his upset demeanor earlier, was leaning on his stool with his guitar in hand. He didn't play it often, but a successful heist did indeed call for celebration. He played along, following Lúcio's lead. Mako sat on the ground, banging his large hands on some bongo drums to create a steady rhythm. Happy and content. After a few moments, Jesse recognized the melody. A heartfelt old drinking tune. There was a familial warmth surrounding the mood of camp. He wanted so desperately to join them.

Moira drew her hands away, waving him off with a knowing smirk. "All right, cowboy. I see how much you want to go. You have that sad puppy look. The wound in your shoulder is the worst. I mean, aside from the fact you're an idiot." She laughed, heartfelt. "I won't keep you from your well deserved victory. Just remember to keep out of trouble for a little bit as you heal."

Jesse snorted. "Thanks, doctor. I'll try my best."

Fareeha helped Jesse up. She looked like she wanted to say something and opened her mouth to speak, but shut it and shook her head.

He noticed her hesitation, inquisitive. "'Reha?"

"I'll talk to you about it later." She punched his good shoulder, thank goodness. "Let's join the others, yeah? I know this song."

Jesse smiled wide. He knew he was an awful singer (at least, so he thought), but he started up the chorus as soon as he sat down near the campfire, legs outstretched in front of him. The fire was hot and inviting, calming frayed nerves. " _Come bustle bustle drink about and let us merry be, our can is full, we'll pump it out, and then all hands to sea._ "

Hana looked at him, hair spinning. So bright and young and innocent. " _Young miss at dancing school is taught the min-u-et to tread._ "

The whole gang joined in afterwards. Hell, Ashe even sung. " _Young miss at dancing school is taught the min-u-et to tread, but we go better when we've brought our foretack to cathead!_   _Come bustle bustle drink about and let us merry be, our can is full, we'll pump it out, and then all hands to sea!_ "

Gabriel strummed his guitar. " _When Hornen hounds the forest trends his pack the huntsman's cheers_."

Jesse's heart felt so full, he was sure it would burst. Thankful for the distraction. " _When Hornen hounds the forest trends his pack the huntsman's cheers! Come bustle bustle drink about and let us merry be, our can is full, we'll pump it out, and then all hands to sea!_ "

Jamison next. He added extra jazz to his lines by wiggling his fingers. " _What's got at sea we spend on shore on sweethearts and our wives._ "

Mako pounded the drum. " _What's got at sea we spend on shore on sweethearts and our wives!_ "

Gabriel strummed the guitar again, louder and with more flourish. " _And then my boys hoist sail for more thus pass the sailors' lives!_ "

Jesse. " _And then my boys hoist sail for more thus pass the sailors' lives!_ "

Finally, the whole gang. Bright. Cheerful. Energetic. Family. " _Come bustle bustle drink about and let us merry be, our can is full, we'll pump it out, and then all hands to sea!_ "

.

They drank and sang well into the night. For once, Jesse decided to not get plastered. He didn't want to diminish his improved mood with alcohol, and wanted to remember every bit of this party for years to come. He'd let alcohol take too many memories from him before. He wouldn't let anyone or anything take this.

Deadlock celebrated until everyone was tired or drunk. One by one, they retired to their tents for the night, but Jesse stayed outside. He'd since relocated to the edge of the cliff by camp, overlooking the lake. He lied on his back, staring up at the stars. It was a calm, peaceful night. Warm, but not too stuffy. He'd since bathed and felt relieved to be free of the stressful day. Ready for sleep.

A rustle. Footsteps. Jesse turned his neck to see Fareeha walking toward him.

"Thought I'd find you here. Saw you leave a bit ago." She remarked as she sat down beside him and dangled her legs over the ledge.

Jesse yawned. "Ya found me."

Fareeha smiled at him, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"What's been botherin' ya, partner?" Jesse asked and closed his eyes. His head was comforted by the soft grass like a pillow. At peace for once.

It took a few minutes for Fareeha to respond. When she did, it was a low whisper. "I didn't want to bring this up earlier. Didn't want to ruin the mood or anything." She sighed. "Seeing Jack again after a while, brings back memories, you know?"

Jesse didn't answer. Fareeha knew what he'd say.

"I appreciate you. For getting us all out of there alive, I mean." Fareeha said.

"Don't mention it."

"No. I'm gonna mention it." Fareeha insisted. "I know how hard Dead-Eye can be. You took a risk and it paid off. You're good at what you do." Her voice faltered. Quieted. "I'm sure my mother would be proud of you."

This time, Jesse opened his eyes. He looked up at Fareeha, who's gaze was fixed on the sparkling lake. She seemed to purposefully not be looking at him.

He rubbed his jaw. It still mildly ached. "I don't think Ana would much like what I did, really. She'd rather we go straight. Use our talents for things like  _not_  robbin' a bank."

Fareeha's gaze dropped to her lap.

Jesse sat up. He pushed his shoulder into hers playfully. "Also, don't make it sound like she'd only be happy with me. Between the two of us, I think she'd like you more."

Fareeha didn't argue. Instead, her eyes glassed over. Voice quiet. Unfitting.

"I want to see her again. One day. When this is all over."

Jesse's brows knitted. He knew the feeling. "I know." He put an arm around her shoulder, kicked his own legs over the ledge. Two siblings in their thirties, small and tired. Surrounded by family, but feeling alone all the same. "Me too."

 

\---

 

Jesse awoke in his own tent to a hand shaking his shoulder.

"Jesse." A familiar accented voice.

"Whas'at?" McCree murmured.

"It is me, Genji."

"Oh." Jesse said dumbly as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Howdy. What can I do ya for?"

Genji looked significantly better than the last time McCree saw him. Cleaned and refreshed. "We must go."

"How cryptic." Jesse mused.

Genji seemed to be wasting no time. He was already pulling McCree upright, leading him out of the tent. Bounty, saddlebags equipped, was already hitched up outside the tent. "I already spoke with Gabriel. We are moving camp further south, away from Valentine."

"Whoa, partner." Jesse held a hand up to steady himself and push Genji away. "What's this about again?"

"The robbery."

Jesse placed the hat he had grabbed over sleep tousled hair. "You gonna just talk in small sentences, Jengi?"

Genji wrinkled his nose at the nickname and snorted. "I believe I shall never live that night down, will I?"

"Oh partner," Jesse chuckled, "you got no idea how excited I am to collect on that favor one day. I'm gonna hold it over ya, request something dumb at the most inopportune time. When you least expect it. Maybe to eat horse shit. Maybe to hit on guys in a bar while wearing a dress. Oh boy, it'll be humiliating."

"Fantastic. I look forward to it." Genji groaned. "Anyway; no, I am not trying to speak in small sentences. I am just trying to relay the information quickly. The rest of the gang is already packing. While you, Lúcio, and Fareeha traveled back to camp, I did some snooping. Wanted to know why the Shimada were working with Overwatch, and how much they knew about our location."

Oh. "What'ja find?"

The ninja sniffed and rubbed his nose. "Shimada are coy and cunning. I would know. Overwatch followed us as well. They were so close to camp, so I assume they had a lead. If they did not know where we were before, they are sure to find out any day. It is too dangerous to stay here."

"So you think they'll find Horseshoe Overlook and arrest us all?"

"No. I cannot speak for Overwatch," Genji grew tense, "but the Shimada would kill us and leave no survivors to tell the tale of Deadlock."

Jesse lit a cigarette. What great people. "Sounds like right friendly folk. Maybe they should mind their own business."

"We seem to be meddling in their affairs, not the other way around."

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Messing up some rich peoples' fantasy? What they doin' all the way from Saint Denis? On vacation in their summer cottages?"

"Business with Overwatch, it seems. Likely a deal to help get Overwatch to focus on other targets like Deadlock and local gangs instead of the Shimada." Genji surmised.

Jesse hummed. Took a puff of the cigarette and blew out through his nose. "Who's the other guy? Not Jack, we know him, but the other guy with Jack. Had a ponytail. Nice suit. Cheekbones like, up to here. Looked like Shimada but like, big wig Shimada."

"That is Hanzo. He is-" Genji cut himself off, tense. Visibly rethought his words. Decided to say something else. "-he is oyabun of the Shimada."

"He make buns for a livin'?"

"No." Genji leveled him a flat glare. "Honestly, McCree, perhaps you should think about things before you say them. Oyabun in English would be the equivalent to a boss. So, Hanzo would be boss of the Shimada."

Jesse rubbed his neck. "Uh, sorry. You know him somehow? Seem to know a lot about this stuff."

Genji turned away, waving a hand. Ignored McCree's question. Jesse took note. "You should also think about what you do before you do it. Why did you take your bandana off before shooting in Valentine? Made a scene. You already have a bounty poster in the sheriff's office!"

Jesse smirked, slightly tickled. "How much am I worth to dear ol' Jack?"

The ninja groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Five thousand dollars."

What a pleasing number. For his head alone? Jesse laughed. "Can I turn myself in?"

Genji deadpanned.

McCree shrugged, adjusting his hat. Amused. "Didn't really matter if I kept the bandana on or not. Jack would have known it was me the second he heard Dead-Eye. I just wanted him to look at my face when I put a bullet through his thick skull."

"You hate this man." Genji observed, thumb and forefinger at his chin.

"I mean, you know Jack. What's there not to hate?"

The ninja remained unconvinced, interested. "Aside from doing his job as a policeman, you have more hatred for the man that runs deeper than simple dislike over having different occupations."

Jesse stiffened, not really wanting to talk about the past right then and there. "Known him for a bit. Just take my word, he's a jackass. I, uh, suggest we drop the subject."

"It is obviously important. Important enough for you to reveal yourself like an idiot."

Jesse glared. "Yeah? So was the thing you was gonna say about Hanzo. But, you decided to say somethin' else, so let's agree to keep our secrets to ourselves, then."

Genji scoffed, but before the ninjai could give his rebuttal, Gabriel appeared, walking towards the two of them. McCree had honestly forgotten they were standing outside his tent. Their tense argument could likely be heard by others.

"Gabriel." Jesse greeted flatly.

The Deadlock boss nodded at him and turned to the ninja. "Genji, you should get to work on packing your things and preparing to lead us to Shady Belle. I would like to speak to McCree." He paused. "Privately."

Genji didn't seem to mind. In fact, the smaller man seemed relieved to be leaving the conversation. He bowed quickly and padded away.

"What do ya want?" Jesse frowned. "Are ya here to apologize?"

"Sure." Gabriel offered. That… wasn't exactly an apology.

Jesse turned his face away. "How thoughtful. Punch a man, say nuthin', and then barely apologize. Mighty fine." He resisted the urge to snap or lash out and instead got to work on packing his belongings.

"No. That isn't-" Gabriel shook his head, as if trying to expel an awful thought from it. "-I am sorry. I have offered a lot of apologies lately. I am just here to tell you that I have a plan. I am very thankful that you, Genji, Fareeha, and Lúcio were successful on your mission."

At least Gabriel seemed mildly apologetic with that statement. Jesse started stuffing some of his things into a small bag, chewing the cigarette hanging from his mouth. "You had a plan at Blackwater. You had a plan at Valentine. You had a plan here in Horseshoe Overlook. We ain't allowed in any of these places anymore. Some great plans ya got here, boss." He rolled up his bedroll and plopped it on the back of Bounty. "You plan to ban us from every place in the west?"

"This one is better." Gabriel persisted, unaffected by McCree's tone.

"Lemme guess." Jesse snorted, an old, failed plan forming in his mind that Gabriel made up at least five years ago. "This new plan of yours has me gettin' hitched to some rich girl in Saint Denis and stealin' her family inheritance before we get banned from the entire county of Lemoyne, right?"

Gabriel huffed in exasperation. "That plan was  _years_  ago, McCree. Besides," he waved a hand and smirked, "she'd be much too pretty for your ugly mug."

"Wow boss. Words hurt."

"I'm serious," Gabriel's voice went suddenly dark, surprising. Just when he thought Gabriel didn't seem to want to tear his throat out. What was this mood swing all about? "You and me, McCree, with the entire gang- we're gonna ditch this place and leave for good. All we need is one more good take, and I know how we're gonna get it."

Jesse turned back to his boss, taking the cigarette from his mouth. The Deadlock leader's lips were in a thin line as he observed the younger gunslinger closely. Jesse felt a twinge of guilt. He wanted nothing more than for Gabriel to be as happy as he was before Blackwater. Fight or not, they were family. He wasn't about to throw that away over a dumb squabble. "All right. What do ya got? What do I need to do?"

Gabriel's complexion relaxed a bit. McCree hadn't realized the older man was so unbelievably tense. "The faster we get the money and go, the safer we will be. Then we can go wherever we want. I know you're not gonna like it though. It involves Shimada. Specifically, big Shimada."

Jesse frowned. "Hanzo?"

Gabriel seemed excited, relieved. "Oh, so Genji has filled you in?"

Genji knew about this already? Thanks for telling me, partner. "What? Genji didn't tell me shit but his name."

"Of course," Gabriel ran a hand down his face and through his beard, "well, Genji is unsupportive of the idea anyway, but I feel like it would be good for us. An excellent take to set us up for life. Lots of money involved. Foolproof, really. So, I want you, son," He waltzed up to McCree and put his hand around him. Suspiciously suave. McCree could see his boss trying to work his silver tongue and sweet talk skills, "to talk to the Shimada. Talk to Hanzo. Get on his good side. When the time is right and you've got the Shimada Clan's trust, we rob 'em blind."

What? The  _fuck?_  "How in the hell am I supposed to do that? Get on their good side? What if Overwatch is with them?"

Gabriel scoffed. "Genji has assured me-"

Jesse ripped himself away from his boss, disgusted, and interrupted. " _Genji_  assured us that the Shimada would be no harm in Valentine, and we see how well  _that_  went."

"Look, McCree," Gabriel sneered, obviously not enjoying Jesse's defiance, "we can't rob anymore banks. Too high profile. Shit's gonna be guarded up to all hell. Not only that, but we are closer to Saint Denis, so there's more people and they get smarter because they aren't country bumbfolk."

It was going to be difficult to dissuade his boss. "Why me? The person Hanzo will likely recognize." Jesse argued.

"Because," Gabriel made a fist, his lips upturned, "you have shown your potential. Crime syndicates always love good skill, and you have that, son."

Exasperated, Jesse sputtered. "I showed my skill by killin' his underlings!"

Gabriel flashed him a wild look. "Then you've proven you're a much more useful asset than his dumb ants!"

"You askin' me this is like you askin' me to walk into a beehive I've kicked like, twenty times!"

The glare Jesse receives from his boss is one laced with contempt and disbelief. "You're one of the ones who agreed with the overall plan to set us straight, McCree. Get money, escape, become honest working men. Is that not what you want anymore? You're okay with robbing a bank, but covert ops and trying to steal from a Japanese crime syndicate is where you draw the goddamn line?"

Putting it that way made McCree's mood sour. "Is it really appropriate for me right now, with a bounty this large, to-"

Gabriel was having none of it. He cut Jesse off. "When is the appropriate time, Jesse McCree? After we're all  _dead?_  After we're arrested or starve to death? After Jack comes and puts a bullet through all of our skulls? What about Lúcio and Hana?" He grit his teeth, flashing white. He ground out the next name like talking through rocks. "Fareeha?"

That last outburst was said with so much vehemence and volume that Jesse was momentarily stunned. He stared wide eyed at his leader, father figure, friend, and bit his lip, trying to form a rebuttal. He wanted nothing more than to protect his family, but this felt like suicide. Send Genji. Send Olivia. Mako. Jamie. Ashe. Moira.  _Anyone_. Anyone but him.

McCree always did Gabe's dirty work, though. Every single request. Every single torture. Every single murder. This time, it was just playing Hanzo like a fool.

He barely had much fight left in him to deny Gabriel, especially after phrasing it the way his boss did. He was tired and run down, out of his element, but tried to argue anyway. "Gabe-"

"Enough." Gabriel cut a hand through the air and turned away. Annoyed. Angry. Saddened by Jesse's lack of faith or respect, maybe. "I expect frequent reports on the Shimada and your mission. No exceptions."

 

\---

 

Further south in the county of Lemoyne, at the very bottom of Scarlet Meadows, was the new place Genji found for the gang. A small, decrepit mansion named Shady Belle, surrounded by woods and the remnants of swampland. Hidden and secluded, arguably more so than Horseshoe Overlook, with a few more amenities.

Shady Belle was run down and unsightly, but boy if it wasn't nice to finally have a real roof over their heads. No tents in the rain. No broken posts. Hell, the abandoned mansion even had a few couches and beds. Jesse honestly couldn't remember the last time he slept in a real honest to God bed, and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Sure, some rain might sprinkle through the ceiling every now and again, but Jesse could say he lived in a  _mansion_  now. Talk about fancy. Movin' up in the world.

They were safer from Overwatch and Shimada now that their trail had gone cold in Horseshoe Overlook, where they would likely have been found any day. Their camp there was long gone but their crimes would not easily be forgotten, especially after Jesse's remorseless bloodbath. It would be awhile before the gunslinger could show his dumb face around Valentine again.

Being closer to the large city of Saint Denis was unnerving, disorienting, and unsettling. No one in Deadlock was very fond of cities, having lived most of their lives on open plains. Also, as always, the failure of Blackwater had left a poor impression of cities on the gang. Saint Denis being directly east of them offered more hiding places to blend in with large crowds, but at the same time brought more people to contend with. It grew much more crowded the further they got to the city, and keeping the hideout a secret would require a lot more diligence. But, it was nothing they couldn't handle.

Aside from the big city of Saint Denis, there was a smaller town named Rhodes to the north. Unlike Valentine, Rhodes was far less decrepit and muddy. The people were far smarter than the ones in Valentine, but not nearly as smart as city folk. So, they were still relatively stupid, to Deadlock's low standards, and provided small opportunities for money making. Everyone in the gang kept it on the down low, though, and Gabriel requested very limited use of guns in Rhodes to ensure they would remain safe for the time being. He wanted Shady Belle to last a little longer than Horseshoe Overlook, and try they shall.

Jesse and Fareeha were currently scoping out Rhodes, just as they had Valentine. Ensure that there were no wanted posters of the gang's face plastered in the rural town before anyone else made the venture out of their new decrepit mansion. Thankfully, there were none, but Jesse wasn't about to rule out the possibility of bounty hunters coming for his hide.

The Deadlock members were, however, not surprised to see Shimada agents crawling around Rhodes, just as they had Valentine. Unlike in Valentine, though, Shimada agents seemed to be the only rival force patrolling around town. No Overwatch at all. Jesse was tense, unsure if any of them would recognize his face, but decided to remain true to Gabriel's proposed mission. Who was he to deny his boss? The gang? Even though the bank heist did run in to a small snag, it  _was_  successful. Very. Gabriel had twenty grand stored away in a safety deposit box that he had hidden within his belongings to prove it. Jesse had no right to argue with that.

Fareeha and him split up and agreed to meet in the middle of town after their snooping. After the split, Jesse first set out to gather information on the Shimada and Rhodes. What better way to do that than ask the locals at the bar? He found himself alone outside the local saloon, smiling at the thought of perhaps bringing Genji here to drink in the future. The whole saloon was larger than the one in Valentine and thankfully didn't stick like pig shit. It was surrounded by bushes and bright flowers. Man, they really did move up in the world.

Now… how to start up a conversation with one of these suited up Shimada guys around town? Hey, how are ya? I, uh, killed a whole bunch'a yer pals in Valentine. So, uh, how's Hanzo? He here? What were you guys doin' with Overwatch? Oh, sorry about the whole killin' thing. I humbly request you don't shoot my brains out. Thank ya kindly.

Jesse's fingers flexed by Peacekeeper, apprehensive and nervous. He was going to get himself killed. He didn't have Gabriel's smooth way with words. Not nearly as skilled as his boss in that department. Oh boy.

He pushed open the doors leading to the saloon, and  _boy howdy_ , yep. The universe wanted him  _dead._  Squashed. Deceased. Croaked. Kicked over like a dented bucket, because one of the  _last_  people he honestly wanted to see so soon was standing  _just a few feet in front of him._

Hanzo.

He was standing across the way, dressed in that blue and white suit vest with his hair tied up. The signature bow was slung over his shoulders. The Shimada boss was conversing with two people at the bar. Next to Hanzo stood a ridiculously large woman with unusually pink hair McCree  _never_  wanted to cross with. She'd squash him like an ant. Must be a bodyguard. No one McCree recognized, thankfully. Probably not Overwatch. In fact, aside from Hanzo, he didn't recognize anyone else in the saloon. Overwatch agents were nowhere in sight. Weird.

Jesse pulled his hat down over his eyes and slid to a chair at an empty table. Time to see if he learned anything from observing Genji for weeks. He tried to look nonchalant.

"Mister Shimada, I understand your intentions, but I am unsure if it would be very smart to business with you." An older gentleman next to Hanzo was saying, swirling what was likely beer in a clear glass. "I mean, with no offense."

"Why not?" Hanzo seemed both bored and irritated at the same time. He had his own cup, but McCree couldn't see what was in it. "It seems suspicious to me that you have suddenly not wanted to work with the Shimada."

"We already saw the paper headlines on what happened the other day!" A different gentleman than the last argued. A much younger man. Daring. "Overwatch worked with you for what, all but a day or so before a whole bunch of agents were killed in an unsuccessful arrest? 'Four infamous Deadlock gang members single handedly take on an army of policemen and specially trained assassins and  _win_.' A pathetic headline for you, sir, really."

Hanzo cast the younger man a glare that could kill on sight. Oh my Lord. "I suggest you  _watch your tone_  when speaking to said specially trained assassins. Show some respect, or I will chain you up like a sad dog."

The first gentleman held a hand out and pushed the younger, daring man away. "Jeremiah, I suggest you leave before you anger our guest."

"But I ain't wrong!" Defiant.

"Remain in your ignorance." Hanzo delivered flatly, wholly unimpressed. Ouch.

The younger man (Jeremiah?) sputtered. "The hell? I'm not ignor-"

"Escort him out of this saloon before I escort his life from him." Hanzo turned his attention to the older gentleman. His hands folded neatly in front of him on the bar. "Immediately."

"Actually, we should really just be going." The older man downed his drink in one large, nervous gulp and pushed himself from the counter. "Look, Mister Shimada, I am sorry. Maybe in the future, but for now, we really shouldn't fraternize at all. I know you need good men to do some work for you, but I am really uncomfortable sending my members out there after the Valentine incident."

Hanzo, sour faced, and his impassive companion watched the two men leave the saloon in a hurry. McCree could see Hanzo clenching his cup, threatening to break the glass.

"Well, things could have gone worse. We could have been shot at." The woman remarked, Russian accent thick. A peculiar woman. A Russian all the way here in the west, standing next to a Japanese man? What times these were.

"Spare me your jokes, Aleksandra." Hanzo's lips pursed with annoyance. He chugged his drink with impressive speed. "Besides, we are not out of trouble yet. It is midday, and Jesse McCree thinks he can eavesdrop on important conversations without being noticed."

Oh  _fuck._  He knew. Oh  _boy_ , he fuckin' knew. Jesse whirled around, pulling his hat from his eyes and chuckling nervously. Caught like a dog with his tail between his legs. If he survived this, he'd have to take lessons from Genji. The ninja would likely find this humiliatingly funny. "Howdy! I should be flattered ya remember who the heck I am."

Aleksandra placed her hands on her hips. Hanzo stared at him with an irritated expression.

"Not even going to deny it. Interesting. Anyway," the archer slid his cup away, "I would never forget Jack Morrison shouting your name one million times. Also, I believe you aimed a gun at me and killed a whole bunch of my men." The archer glared daggers. Jesse was pretty sure he was a dead man at this point.

"Ho-ho," Jesse rubbed his neck, the other hand flexing, ready to draw Peacekeeper at any moment. If he was going to die, he was going to die fighting. "Real sorry about that! But ya see, I was kinda in the middle of something when ya'll decided to aim your guns at me and my friends. That was kinda rude of ya, y'know."

"Ah," Hanzo smirked as the bartender poured him another glass, "robbing a bank in the middle of some backwoods town. Important work, I see."

Jesse furrowed his brows, rising from his seat. The bodyguard by Hanzo tensed but remained silent. "Why ain't ya just shooting at me now, then?"

"Why?" Hanzo seemed bored. He sipped his glass. To be that rich, Jesse would never know.

"I, uh, shot at you?"

"And I shot at you." The archer waved a hand. "We are even, then."

Jesse huffed. This whole conversation seemed bizarre. "Is this how crime mobsters usually conduct business? All weird like? I'm used to people shootin' one another over two dollars."

"A petty amount, really."

The nerve. This mission was going to be difficult. McCree was sure he'd shoot Hanzo before he got enough information to steal money from the archer. "Okay. What about Overwatch? You still workin' with them?"

Hanzo seemed actually  _amused._  "If you were any good at eavesdropping, you would know the answer to that question is no. Besides, the Shimada did not ask for help from Overwatch, Overwatch requested the help of the Shimada. Two very different things. I would never ask for help from policemen."

And Jesse thought Jack was pompous. Jesus Christ. "Those are some mighty big britches you got there, partner. I just observed a man backing out of a deal with you 'cause of what lil' ol' me did."

That earned him a glare finally. "None of your business, gunslinger."

"And what about all your guys I killed?" Jesse countered. He had a death wish.

"Obviously not good enough to work for me because they let a single, foolish man take them down." Hanzo still glared, but he did have a hint of interest when he looked back at McCree. His eyes sparkled. "How did you do that, by the way?"

Jesse, taken by surprise for a moment, smirked. "Oh, so now you'll be friendly 'cause I can kill people? How generic of you, mister crime boss."

The initial interest in Hanzo's eyes dissipated to annoyance yet again. "How did you kill almost twenty men with one revolver in seconds?" The archer demanded, standing from the bar and stalking over to Jesse. Drink abandoned. Aleksandra followed close behind, wary.

"Why should I tell you?" Jesse took a step back.

Hanzo sneered, catching Jesse easily before the man had a chance to flee. He grabbed the front of the gunslinger's serape. Feisty. "I can have you killed right here, right now. I suggest you comply. Tell me why."

"I got an idea," Jesse grabbed the archer's hand, pulling it away from his serape. Time to enact some form of sweet talk. He drawled his voice more than normal and dropped it an octave. "Ya want info on what I did, and I want info on the Shimada. I overheard ya need a lil' help, and yer recent deal just fell through. You know how good I am with a gun. Best shot in the west, guaranteed. You seen it. So, how about ya let me work with you for a bit? I pull my own weight and everythin'. In return, I'll tell you how I did it. After the job."

Hanzo seemed skeptical. Judgmental, even. He chuckled darkly. "Best shot in the west? But you missed me, cowboy."

"I didn't miss, you just musta ducked." Jesse smoothed his serape, mischievous. It was fun to poke at rich people. He didn't have the chance very often. "Maybe a coward?"

That seemed to cross a line. Hanzo reeled back, and his face twisted into rage. "I guarantee you that you are not the best shot in the west. I suggest you take that notion out of your head."

Jesse sputtered a laugh. "Then why didn't ya stop me?"

"I was told by Morrison to keep you alive."

Morrison wanted him… alive? Hardly believable. That was information he would process another time.

"Don't sound like Morrison. Sounds like a buncha lies to me, partner."

"Fine then." Hanzo dared. He ripped the bow from his shoulders. It glistened in the sunlight through the windows. Jesse felt his shoulder ache with the arrow's memory. "Duel me."

"You with a bow and me with my gun?" Jesse barked, hysterical. "Partner, you'd lose."

Hanzo stalked to the other side of the saloon, roughly fifteen feet away, maybe. Everything the man seemed to do was fast and methodical. "Then prove yourself. Knock the bow from my hand and I'll let you work with me."

Easy. Like takin' candy from a baby. Jesse let his hand rest by Peacekeeper's holster, ready. "Oh, I can't wait to knock that sly grin offa your rich face."

Dead-Eye was out of the question. This was a simple disarming duel, not aiming to kill the man. That would really make Gabriel angry, as tempting as it was to kill the archer. The other man's bow was large and seemed unwieldy compared to Peacekeeper. This was going to be unfairly easy. He felt sorry for the archer, even if just a little bit.

"Aleksandra," Hanzo addressed the Russian girl while staring the gunslinger down, arrow and bow resting in his hands and just as ready, "announce the draw."

Jesse's eyes flickered to the woman. Aleksandra seemed smug, amused. Why? He didn't really want to know. There was no way Hanzo could win this.

Time passed slowly. The Russian took her time. Then, after a few heartbeats, he heard it. The definitive, decisive, curt; " _draw._ "

Jesse's hand acted impulsively. He remembered dueling Fareeha and Ana for fun. Gabriel to train his reflexes. Over the years, all three of them fell behind his skill. They all grew impressed and decided dueling Jesse was no longer that fun, much to his amusement. Ana was so proud. He hoped Ana would still be proud, regardless of what he'd done since he was a child. He dueled random men on the streets, and they barely had a chance to even touch their gun before Jesse put a bullet in between their eyes. In their arm. Leg. He'd never lost. Never been disarmed in a duel. Never out-shot. There was no way he'd let a pompous rich snob with a goddamn bow stop his winning streak now.

_The best shot in the west, habibi._

Lost in his thoughts, reacting on adrenaline, he was entirely unprepared when Peacekeeper, having just been pulled from it's holster, went  _flying_  from his hand.

The silver gun flew ceremoniously across the way, clanking heavily against the wooden floorboards of the saloon. The definitive clink of metal on wood was deafening. It glistened, sparkled, twinkled like a star. Beautiful. Deadly. Utterly defeated.

Jesse's eyes went wide. Incredulous. Disbelieving. He felt panic rise in his throat. He barely knew how to react. Lost? He l _ost?_  What? What?  _What?_   _What?_

"Sir Shimada is the victor." Aleksandra stated triumphantly. She sounded a million miles away. Too far away. Jesse felt faint.

_The best shot in the west, habibi. You did well. Never doubt yourself._

He placed his now empty hand on his chest. Where the archer's had been, grabbing roughly at his serape. His heart beat fast, threatened to break free. The best sharpshooter in the west. The only title he really had. The only thing he was ever good at.

Before Jesse even looked up, he felt Hanzo's presence return, standing in front of him. Something glistened out of the corner of his eye.

"A valiant effort, Jesse McCree." Hanzo sounded smug, although slightly fond. Jesse never hated the sound more. "Perhaps this is a lesson to never overestimate yourself."

Jesse said nothing, overwhelmed.

"McCree, look up." Hanzo demanded.

After a moment, Jesse complied, upturning his face a little but kept the hand over his chest. Hanzo stood in front of him, Peacekeeper in one hand, outstretched to the gunslinger as an offering. There was a slight smile on his face. His bow hung mockingly in the other hand.  _How?_

"You did well." Hanzo praised lightly. Unsettling. Frightening. He never wanted to hear that phrase from the archer again.

Jesse took Peacekeeper from him slowly and remained silent.

"My offer still stands." Hanzo outstretched his now empty hand, ready for a handshake. "I am still curious on how you beat my men so easily, but struggled in this duel."

Jesse's reply was weak, confused. He hated sounding that way in front of this near stranger. "Why?"

Hanzo hummed. Thoughtful. "You are the only person who has ever come close to shooting me. A feat no one else has done before."

Hesitant, upset, overwhelmed, jittery; accepting the hand would create a slew of new problems. However, it is what Jesse had wanted. What Gabriel wanted. Defeated or not, it was what Deadlock  _needed._  Play Hanzo like a fool. Steal his money. Maybe get a chance to kill him later. Breathe. Relax. It'll be over soon. He was the best sharpshooter in the west, and when Hanzo was gone, he'd have his title back. The only thing he was good at. Death and destruction. Killing and shooting. He'd never be an honest man.

Jesse accepted the hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Oh boy, I didn't expect this chapter to be nearly 8,000 words. Send help.  
> \- I've actually had HORRID writers block these past few days. Pumping this out was difficult, so I am unsure if I entirely love what I've written. Maybe because I've stared at it for an eternity, though.  
> \- The song Deadlock sings is called "Let us merry be." [A song in RDR2!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZLat5Ee8aN0)  
> \- IT'S MORE HANZO. MY BB  
> \- I'm sorry for abusing Jesse so much this chapter. ///shrug  
> \- As always, thank you for the support and the comments! I love you all! <3
> 
> \- Updates will come weekly on Saturdays!!!


	5. A Gilded Cage

Being a lackey for a Japanese crime syndicate was not how Jesse McCree envisioned his life going. Being a lackey for Gabriel was one thing. Jesse knew the man like the back of his own hand. But Hanzo? Jesse about died every time the archer leveled him with his cool, stoic gaze. It was as if a bucket of freezing water washed over him every time. If looks could kill.

The gunslinger found himself in the middle of croc infested swamplands, next to some rusty train tracks, alongside his new "boss." Another man was tied up like a hog in front of him, at the archer's demand. Fierce and heartless. Stealing from this crime boss was going to be no joke for Deadlock. Probably their most difficult heist yet.

Hanzo had the sole of his elaborate boot resting on the frazzled head of their captive. The man had been (ironically) trying to steal influence in Saint Denis from the Shimada with copious amounts of money. Screw the influence. The guy should have used that money to hightail it out of this godforsaken shitthole of a county.

"Now repeat after me and deliver it to your underlings," Hanzo sneered, seemingly pleased with the younger man's predicament, "steal from me again and you will not live to tell the tale."

"Yes!" The tied up man looked downright terrified. Rightfully so. "No, sir, Shimada sir! I swear."

Hanzo pressed his foot down firmer, twisting. Ouch. "That was  _not_  what I asked of you."

A whimper. "Steal from- from Sir Shimada again, and we will not live to tell the tale!"

"Excellent." Hanzo withdrew the foot. "You may release him, gunslinger."

Jesse did as he was told, untying the small, younger man from his binds. He felt mildly sorry for the kid. He was no more than twenty, maybe. Reminded him of Lúcio, almost. Young and obedient.

Pleased with the results, Hanzo smirked. Something coy in his eyes flickered. A feeling of dread made its way down McCree's spine. "Run along and deliver that message to the rest of your 'gang.' Do not show your face here again."

The young man jumped up from the tracks and fled, shouting a blubbery mess that was barely distinguishable. Probably ' _yessir'_  and ' _neveragain.'_  God forbid.

Jesse huffed a wheezy breath, stifled by the humidity of the swamp. He felt heavy with sweat and filth, having followed Hanzo around Bayou Nwa for the better half of the day, hunting their target. The sun was high in the sky and the canopy of large trees offered little respite. While the swamp was a perfect place to hide, the crime boss seemed to be a master at tracking down those who didn't want to be found.

In his sweaty misery, unused to the swamp's harsh conditions, Hanzo's voice startled him out of a heat induced trance. "Shoot him."

Groggy with fatigue, Jesse flinched. "What?"

Hanzo whipped his well kept face to Jesse's, a stark difference in their facades. Cool and calm. Wet and worried. "Shoot the boy."

"Shoot him?" Jesse asked, completely taken off guard. Holy shit. "Hanzo, he's runnin'-"

"Shoot the boy before he is gone!" Hanzo shouted, no room for argument. Reminded him of Gabriel. Stern. Harsh. Demanding.

Jesse's mind went blank. The gunslinger reacted on instinct to the tone. He flicked Peacekeeper out of it's holster. Barely looked at where he aimed. Knew he'd hit his (pathetic, young, defenseless,  _no no no_ ) target. The revolver clicked once before the two men watched the boy topple forward into the grass a few feet away, unmoving. A sprinkle of red. Damning.

"I shouldn't have done that." Jesse remarked dumbly after the gunshot blast stopped echoing around them, Peacekeeper's metal warm in his hand. Sweat dripped from his brow. He suddenly felt sick.

"You did fine." Hanzo praised.

"He was a kid!" Jesse fixated on the ' _was'_  in his statement, astonished with himself. "No more than twenty! Defenseless, runnin' away, and I shot him! Without a second thought!"

The archer had already turned away, leaving Jesse to stand by the train tracks alone. Alone to stew in his bad thoughts. Unhelpful. Unapologetic. "I thought you were familiar with this type of work, gunslinger? You did as you were told. Perfect obedience. A commendable trait. I am pleased. Think nothing of what has been done and move on."

Jesse bit his tongue. He tried desperately to keep his breakfast down with the combined feelings of  _misery_ and  _dread_  and  _despicable_  climbing up his already deteriorated mental sanity. "Hanzo, he was-"

"I am your boss, therefore I would prefer if you called me Shimada-san or Shimada." Hanzo interrupted, uncaring. "I refer to you as McCree. Professional and polite. Furthermore, the young man knew what he was doing was wrong, and therefore must face the consequences of his actions. This world is cruel and hurtful. Choose the wrong profession or make the wrong decision and face judgement."

Jesse was exasperated. Judgement? Who the heck were they to judge? Who would judge them, at the end of their lives? Surely they were both going to pay for their sins with endless suffering. "Dyin' is acceptable judgement?!"

"A consequence he should have known before meddling in our affairs. The Shimada do not take kindly to threats and will kill those who try our patience."

"Who the fuck made you the undertaker?" Jesse bit out, harsh. He knew he'd crossed a line when Hanzo's face went downright murderous.

"Enough blabbering like a dog before I have you killed as well. I have tried nothing but to reason with you. A life is a life, whether it is this boy or the men you killed in Valentine. You have chosen this profession and these are the consequences. Act like an adult or leave my presence. Either follow me to Saint Denis or not. Your choice." Hanzo retorted, low and even. He turned away, paying no mind to the mess of growing blood a few feet away. A life taken too soon. Murdering grown men with ample time to correct their mistakes was one thing; murdering a twenty year old born to a shitty life was another. Conflicted and defeated, Jesse followed the Japanese man, silent. Disgusted.

The gunslinger didn't even know why he tried arguing. Hanzo was right. He'd never be an honest man. He'd long dug his own grave decades ago. A grave filled with the bodies of innocent people, both young and old. It was only a matter of time before he joined them.

In the end, McCree just felt ashamed. At himself or the Shimada boss, he didn't know.

.

Saint Denis was (and forever shall remain, Jesse decided) a cesspool of shitty people.

The city was musty and layered with what appeared to be a thin layer of dust. The gaudy and restless people who lined the streets all combined into one big stink ball. If there was one good thing about those people, though, that would be the immense diversity. Restaurants full of food Jesse would never have the imagination to even dream of. Shops lined with knick-knacks, clothes, and curiosities he'd never seen. The wild frontier didn't offer much in terms of variance; meeting someone who wasn't some washed up hick out there was a downright miracle. McCree was thankful that Deadlock was a diverse anomaly among rural gangs, but it would never compare to the sheer amount of different cultures in Saint Denis.

The Shimada had their base at a large mansion near the outskirts of the city, in the obviously more well kept and pretty part. The mansion was large and decorative, cut off from its neighbors with iron fences and tall hedges. Dragon statues posed threateningly near the entrance, fangs drawn and ready. Jesse never had the opportunity to enter a building so elaborate before.

Hanzo walked up to the gates, waving a hand to the guards that opened them. They bowed at the waist. Inside the front courtyard, a certain pink haired Russian woman was waiting for them with crossed arms, an apprehensive smile on her stern features. It was nice to see a familiar face.

"Sir Shimada, Agent McCree," Aleksandra greeted with a curt wave, "I did not send any messengers for you on your business, but the mayor sent you a letter while you were away."

That seemed to startle Hanzo. "The mayor?" He echoed with displeasure, continuing to make his way toward the mansion's front doors. He didn't even look at Aleksandra. "What, pray tell, does the mayor want now? More money? I shall arrange it."

"Not money this time, but an audience in a public setting." She followed Hanzo closely. Protective. A perfect bodyguard. "I did not read the letter since it is yours, but I did open it and verify the seal."

Hanzo seemed distressed and tired. Jesse had been so sure that Hanzo was a walking stoic statue when they met, uncaring and unfeeling, but over the past few hours, he realized just how subtly expressive the Japanese man was. Who was this mysterious mayor man? McCree never delved much into politics and the idea already threatened to give him a headache. Those thoughts dissipated, though, as the three of them came up to the doors of the large Shimada mansion. McCree's heart stopped when they opened.

This place was utterly  _gorgeous._

Rich reds and yellows adorned the walls and furniture, an oddly welcoming and warming atmosphere to accompany a crime syndicate of assassins. Oriental paintings and carvings decorated the walls, artwork so beautiful and elaborate that Jesse was sure he'd never find an equal. He'd seen western works, but he'd never had the opportunity to see fierce dragons and beautiful cranes decorate his surroundings. He had thick boots on, but he could still feel the plushness of the decorative carpets under his soles. Further beyond, the polished sheen of dark hardwood, stained the most beautiful brown Jesse ever thought he'd seen. He didn't know wood could even get that color.

So rich. So beautiful. It was hard to believe a man like Hanzo owned  _everything._  Was this the same man who, just earlier, ordered him to murder a guy?

The archer, in Jesse's amazed haze, veered off into a side room, likely to read his new mysterious letter. Beside the gunslinger, the Russian woman smiled. She clapped his shoulder with one large palm. Thank goodness it was his good shoulder.

"So, since Sir Shimada is busy and we have time, I haven't had the ability to introduce myself." Aleksandra offered him her other hand. "Aleksandra Zaryanova, head bodyguard for Shimada Hanzo. He gets himself into trouble quite a lot, and I'm there to make sure he doesn't die. Or kill himself with a hasty decision." She shrugged. "One of the two."

Feeling at little more at ease with his surroundings and her welcoming attitude, Jesse took her hand and shook. "Jesse McCree, Hanzo's new lackey. But I mean, you were there in Rhodes. You know my name by now, I'm sure."

The Russian girl snorted. "Yeah, you're not wrong. By the way, you really shouldn't have taken Sir Shimada's bet. I have yet to see him lose a single duel. Now he'll ring you dry for everything you're worth."

Jesse chuckled, though the heaviness of today's events had yet to dissipate from his conscious. "Well, I don't plan on dyin' anytime soon. It'll be nice to work for a change, rather than be some poor drifter. Especially if the digs look like this." He gestured around them. "Man, I ain't ever been in a place so goddamn fancy."

"You are very skilled, McCree." She punched his shoulder. He knew she meant it goodheartedly, but boy that hurt. "You'll make a fine addition. Just don't come for my job, you hear? I'll crush you." She cracked her knuckles, but the threat held little weight with the smile on her face.

Jesse grimaced and rubbed his assaulted shoulder. This woman was going to be easy to befriend. He felt bad his intent was to rob her. Well, her employer, rather. "Crystal clear, Lady Aleksandra."

The endearment made Aleksandra sputter with laughter. A deep sound. Friendly. If only she knew. "Flattery will get you nowhere here in the Shimada, McCree. Also, Hanzo is the one to call me Aleksandra. He is very professional, as I'm sure you've noticed. If you'd like, you can just call me Zarya."

"All right, Miss Zarya." Jesse stretched out her new nickname with his drawl, much to her amusement. "It is nice to meet a fine lady like yerself."

She sneered and punched his shoulder again. Please no. That hurt. "Remember what I said about flattery, Agent McCree. Nowhere."

.

"A party." Hanzo said flatly.

"It would likely be wise to follow what the mayor wants, Shimada-san." An older Japanese man commented. The man stood on the other side of a small desk, opposite Hanzo, the mentioned letter from the mayor laid out on it's glossy wood tabletop. An advisor, Hanzo had told him. He'd also told the gunslinger to keep his mouth shut during this meeting. Typical. Shut up and just do your job.

Jesse stood to Hanzo's left, Aleksandra to the archer's right. Both bodyguards, armed and ready. Keeping his mouth shut proved to be a difficult task (since talking dumb, stupid shit really was McCree's speciality) but he managed to keep his comments to himself.

"A party at my home?" Hanzo folded his arms. Jesse caught the glimpse of something on his wrist as the cuff of his shirt moved. A hint of blue. Electric. "Why not his?"

The advisor remained still. "He did not say, only that it would be wise to try to give the Shimada a better name in the city. Also, staying on the mayor's good side would be highly advised, as he is a trusted public figure, and the only reason we have had so much influence for so long."

Hanzo grunted, looking to the floor with a glare. His arms tightened.

"You know," the elderly advisor piped up, more inviting and less professional than before, "a party may be good for you, Hanzo. Things around here have been hectic, lately. You never give yourself time to rest. Rest is important, for the body and the mind."

"I do not need your lectures on health and wellness." Hanzo chided through his teeth. He unfolded his hands and turned away, motioning for McCree and Zarya to follow. "I will mull over the idea and compose a response later. If there is to be a party, it should be strictly diplomatic. For now, I have other, more important matters to attend to."

The elder sighed, but did not argue.

Jesse followed Hanzo and Zarya as the two of them made their way out into the halls. He eyed Hanzo's stiff back, wondering just how much the archer worked himself. Rich people didn't have people to do all the work for them? Gabriel always gave him some fantasy ideal about being rich- servants and women, as far as the eye can see. You never have to lift a finger. You'd probably get fat and lazy. Was that not how Hanzo was? I mean, he definitely was not fat and lazy-

"I have errands to run in the city." Hanzo acknowledged them without turning his head. "Agent McCree will accompany me."

"Me?" Jesse blurted, surprised. "Why not Zarya?"

Hanzo seemed displeased with the use of his other bodyguard's nickname. His nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. "I am going to have Aleksandra take care of more private matters. I can trust her with my empire, as I have known her for quite a while. You," he pointed, "on the other hand, I cannot trust by yourself. I would rather you come with me so I may keep an eye on you."

Oh. He was being babysat. How lovely. He knew better than to argue with the archer, though. Instead, Jesse agreed meekly. Better safe than sorry.

"Good luck out there, Agent McCree." Zarya gave him a small salute as she turned away from them. "Trust me, walking the city is more interesting than the paperwork here."

He saluted back with a toothy smile. He hadn't expected to like her so quickly. "Thanks, partner. Good luck to you too."

After she left, Hanzo ordered McCree to stay put and ducked into a side room. He reemerged with that  _accursed_  bow slung over his broad shoulders. Polished and ready. It looked more like a display statement rather than a weapon at this point. And Gabriel thought  _McCree_  was a show off. Hanzo, admittedly, looked ten times better than himself. Jesse frowned.

The two of them made their way out the front doors and down the steps. They were offered a carriage at the edge of the street, which Hanzo hastily declined. The archer grumbled, mood sour, and started down the sidewalk without even casting McCree a second glance.

Hanzo was quiet for much of the first part of their walk. The archer made a few brief stops at some places Jesse had no idea of. Each place seemed to have a sign in a different language. The gunslinger was forced to wait outside and guard the door, unwanted in the private meetings. Is this what bodyguards do? Jesse had absolutely no idea where they were going at all, and the city was like a giant maze. He felt out of place and out of his element. A filthy outlaw in a city of well kept people. He was truly a lost dog with nowhere else to go. Perhaps this mission was becoming more than he could handle.

His initial objective crawled it's way to the forefront of McCree's thoughts. Play Hanzo like a fiddle. Gain inside knowledge. Jesse had to go back to Gabriel with more than simply 'yeah Hanzo's a dick' tonight. He needed some lead; some inside knowledge that Gabriel could bend to their gain. Jesse had to find time to snoop around the Shimada mansion undisturbed.

The gunslinger pushed those thoughts down as Hanzo reemerged from the mystery shop, brows furrowed. He didn't even look up at McCree when he brushed past and started for the next place. Closed off and silent. What happened in there?

Small talk. Small talk to start off with. Play it cool, McCree. Talking to people came so naturally to Gabriel, try to work some of that Deadlock magic here. He hooked his thumbs on his belt loops and tried his hardest to start up a casual conversation. A stepping stone for later. "Don't you got servants or somethin' that could be doin' these errands for you?"

Hanzo seemed startled by his voice. He glanced at McCree. "I prefer to do my own work." A short, calculated response. Jesse would need to try harder.

McCree hummed. "What's the point of bein' rich, then? You don't got people to wait on you hand and foot?"

Hanzo scoffed. Ah, a mild amount of emotion. This time, amusement. "Hardly a good use of funds. Half of my fortune goes to running Saint Denis. I also have agents to pay, advisors to appeal. If I want something to be done, it is easier to do it myself. That way, I can assure it is done properly and the way I want."

A good start. Jesse dared to delve deeper. "Hmm, advisors and workers. You got any family to take care of with all this money? People to share it with?"

Hanzo stiffened. The wrong thing to ask. Whoops. "Talk of something else if you are going to yap. Remain professional in my presence."

Okay. Family, a noted sore point for Hanzo. Jesse made a mental note to not bring it up again. It did little to curb his interest in the other man's affairs, though. New topic. New topic. Play it cool. Small slip ups as okay. You barely know the guy; not everything can be perfect. "Oh, so, uh, how'd ya learn to shoot like that, then?"

The archer's shoulders relaxed, if only a little. "Shoot like what?"

Jesse could actually feel the sweat on his neck. There was no reason to be this nervous, but he was for some ungodly reason. Relax. "Don't play dumb with me, man. I mean, how'd ya learn to shoot so good with a bow?"

"A bow is a traditional weapon. More elegant. I find I have more control with it over modern guns." Hanzo remarked, somewhat thoughtful. "I learned from my elders. They wanted me to learn the sword first, but I was adamant on perfecting my marksmanship."

 _The best shot in the west._  Jesse felt his mood drop, but tried to keep the conversation light. There was no use for his sore feelings here. Gabriel would murder him if he messed up this heist with something as petty as jealousy. He decided to crack a joke to see how well the archer would take it. "You're more interested in some flexible wood than a shiny sword? I'll keep that in mind." He waggled his brows.

"An inappropriate joke." Hanzo chided with a click of his tongue. It wasn't hostile, though. Score one. "We should keep things professional."

Professional, professional,  _professional._  Did the archer not know any other words? Jesse thumbed his hat, kept one hand by his belt. "Awh, Shimada-san. I already call you what ya wanna be called. All  _professional_  like. I feel like if I'm gonna be a good bodyguard, I should at least know ya a little."

Hanzo met his gaze. "Usually, people who want to 'get to know me' are much more sinister in their intentions. It does not usually end well for them."

Jesse struggled keep the eye contact. Knew he couldn't look away. Fought the flinch and succeeded to remain friendly in appearance, a smile to accompany it. His poker face would need some work if he was to make it through these next few weeks. He hoped this mission didn't take weeks. He'd probably die before then.

Jesse remained calm. A feat he'd praise himself for later. "Just bein' friendly. What am I gonna do? I already know you can out shoot me. I felt your arrows. They ain't fun."

Hanzo actually  _chuckled._  Was it? It was more of a huffed breath. Still, a laugh is a laugh.

"Besides," Jesse continued, "we made a deal. Shook on it. I'm a man of my word, Shimada-san. I hope you'll come to know that."

Hanzo hummed. "I shall see to it."

.

Later in the day, after most of Hanzo's errands were done, the two of them made their way back towards Shimada mansion. Jesse had succeeded in keeping their small talk going, and he found that talking to Hanzo was rather second nature. Easy and smooth. Enjoyable. Weren't they murderers? How was this so easy?

"You ain't ever played Five Finger Fillet?" Jesse had a pocket knife in his hands, twirling it around his knuckles with practiced ease.

Hanzo actually appeared horrified. "A barbaric game, really."

"You mean a skilled game,  _really!_ " Jesse echoed with a tease. "There's a lot of money to be made, here. Precise and clean! If yer gonna have Blackjack and Poker and all those fun things at the party, we should appeal to all those county folk and offer this one too!"

Hanzo watched the knife in Jesse's hand warily. His eyes flickered as the metal twirled. "I would rather not have to clean up the mess of dismembered fingers from my tabletops, thank you. We should have much more civilized entertainment."

"You'd be good at it, I bet. With your aim!" Jesse smiled. "Bet yer good at Blackjack and Poker too. Take this as a compliment from one outlaw to another; you probably got the best damn poker face this side of the Atlantic."

A rare smile appeared at the corner of the archer's lips. Zarya was wrong. Flattery  _would_  get him somewhere, it seems. "It would be more believable if you said I had the best poker face in the world, cowboy."

Jesse laughed. "I bet you do, partner."

The smile immediately faded from Hanzo's mouth. Had he said something wrong all of a sudden? "Partner?"

Oh. "Shimada-san." He corrected himself. A minor slip. "I call people partner a lot. Sorry, I know ya dislike nicknames. Zary- Aleksandra told me."

The archer appeared to struggle for a moment, trying to come up with the correct response. "It is not that I dislike nicknames. I would rather just remain-"

"Professional, yeah, I got it." Jesse stopped twirling the knife and slid it back into his belt. "Y'know, I know askin' about your family is off limits after earlier, but it's okay to be not professional sometimes. Are you professional in your sleep? In the bathroom? When you're about to blow your load?"

Hanzo, for the first time, sputtered.  _Hard._  A little red faced, but with embarrassment and not anger. As if his mind short circuited and he had no idea how to react to the vulgar statement. In the end, the archer decided to not acknowledge it. It seemed to be a running trend. Make Hanzo flustered and he'd ignore it. It was rather amusing. "I do not know how you grew up or where you come from, Agent McCree, but I have no one to be unprofessional with nor do I wish to run an empire on things as frivolous as friendship and hope. It is pertinent that I remain dutiful, and I request that you acknowledge that."

A request, not a demand. An interesting change. But also... no one to be unprofessional with? "You don't got a friend? Some parents? A brother or sister to annoy the heck out of?"

Hanzo's signature glare came back. "You just acknowledged that family talk was strictly off limits, and then you proceed to ask anyway. Amazing."

"Well, Hanzo," Jesse persisted, defiant. Did this man really have no family? No friends? Only colleagues and bodyguards? What type of life did this man live? Is this what it really was like to be rich? "I know everyone needs a friend."

"You sound like some children's book writer." Hanzo scoffed. "Are you not, what, forty? I have no need for your fantasies. There is work to be done."

"I'll have you know I ain't forty. I'm thirty-six. Do I really look that old?"

"Ancient." Hanzo mumbled, a smirk on his features. He actually seemed to enjoy it. The smirk dissipated soon after, as if the archer thought better than to show it.

Briefly, Jesse was reminded of Hana and their conversation just a few days back. The smile on her face. The chocolate she gave him while simultaneously teasing him about how old he was. Hanzo seemed stoic and distrustful. Curt and unfeeling. But their conversation had actually been light and eye-opening. From that one word, he could both hear and see the true man that hid under the stony exterior. A mask. Perhaps he'd only known him for a few days; perhaps it was too soon to judge. They'd both lived such different lives. Could he really trust his thoughts?

Jesse had never been a bad judge of character, though.

The mission objective prodded it's way to the forefront of McCree's thoughts again. Play Hanzo like a fiddle. Steal his fortune. He tried desperately not to think about it right now, but it proved exceptionally difficult. Gabriel's face appeared in his mind; his boss's voice echoing in the emptiness that was his increasing guilt, demanding to know if the gunslinger had found any lead to work with.

For the first time since knowing Hanzo, despite everything, Jesse wanted to reach out and help rather than steal. In front of him was a man he thought had everything; money, power, fame. A house too beautiful for words. The skills to back up his boasts. Perfect aim. A handsome face and excellent physique that McCree would never be able to achieve. Everything Jesse could hope to have, Hanzo had.

Their conversations these past few hours had been so easy and fun. In reality, the man before him seemed broken and lonely. Living in a gilded cage, surrounded by nothing but workers and advisors. People who wanted him for his money or people who wanted him for his power. No family. No friends. No hope.

Jesse was briefly ashamed to be in the category of people that wanted the archer for his money. The gunslinger thought back to his conversation with Genji. An interesting parallel.

"I'll be your friend." Jesse offered, quieter than intended.

Hanzo said nothing.

 

\---

 

" _Hola, vaquero_." Olivia's rich tone awoke Jesse from his haze of fitful sleep. "It is nearly noon. Do you not have to meet your new rich friend in Saint Denis?"

Jesse groaned, sitting up. After their tumultuous conversation, one that seemed to overwhelm Hanzo, the archer had sent the gunslinger home with the promise to reconvene the next day. McCree was grateful for the ability to wash and sleep. The ladder, however, proved to be exceptionally difficult. He'd done nothing but toss and turn all night.

Jesse rubbed his itchy eyes. "What business you got wakin' me up? My new 'rich friend' don't need me until later."

Olivia laughed. "It is so easy to torture you, Jesse. But no, I am not here to keep you awake, as much as I would like to be." She flicked a piece of paper from her hand and onto his chest. It fluttered and landed with an audible slap. "A letter for you."

A letter? For  _him?_  "Where'd you get this?" Jesse asked, afraid to know the answer.

"You doubt my ways. I am the informant of the group, as Gabe called it. If I couldn't even intercept any mail for you guys, I would be poor at my job." She flipped her hair, pursed her lips. Seemed proud of herself. A hint of purple shined in the sunlight.

"Who's it from?"

She placed a finger at her temple, as if pained by his stupidity. "Perhaps open it and all of your questions will be answered?"

Jesse all but tore the letter apart in his haste to get it open. As soon as he unfolded the top half, his heart sunk. He knew this handwriting. Elegant. Curled. Perfect and neat. Not a single line or swirl out of place.

Angela.

_Jesse McCree,_

_I know I am likely one of the last people you wish to hear from right now, but I heard about the robbery in Blackwater, as well as the one in Valentine. Jack told me what he saw, and what you said. I also know that Gabriel and Fareeha have to be with you. You'd never leave them._

_Jesse, I know it has been years. I know Jack was unwelcoming and unsupportive. I know Gabriel has given you the family and adventure that we just couldn't seem to give you. I am sorry for everything that happened when you were a kid. But you're older now, much smarter, and we surely miss you. Maybe not Jack, but I do. Lena as well. Mei-Ling, Reinhardt, even Torbj_ _ö_ _rn and Brigitte. They all miss you. I don't believe anyone misses you or Fareeha more than Ana though._

_I do not know why I am rambling, but I do have an intent to this letter. Deadlock has made a large name for themselves recently, and none of it is good. Jack has been giving out strict orders to find you, and every day I know he grows closer. I am writing to tell you that you and Fareeha have an open invitation back to Overwatch, despite what you've done. We want to help you escape the chaos that seems to be Deadlock. Jack is unhappy about it and wants to ensure that it is kept under the covers, but it is the one time in his life that Ana has convinced him to put aside his job and morals in order to keep you and Fareeha safe._

_Lena is on a mission in Saint Denis over the next week. I know the city is large, but you are excellent at tracking people down, and I'm sure you'll be naturally drawn towards one another. Trouble attracts trouble. It will be hard to miss the bubbliest, smallest, energetic British woman you have ever known. I also told her to keep an eye out for you._

_Meet with her, Jesse. Talk a bit. I'm not telling you to reconsider abandoning Gabriel or Deadlock; I know how much they mean to you. I'm telling you to just reconnect with us. We miss you, and don't want you harmed._

_Also, on a lighter note, I truly hope you have stopped smoking. It is horrid for your health. And your teeth._

_If you wish to send me a letter back, you know where to send it._

_With love,_

_Angela._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I am having the WORST bout of writers block. I have plenty of motivation, know exactly where the story is going, have it all plotted out, but I'm having the DARNDEST time getting it out. ugh I hope it goes away soon. :X  
> \- I don't entirely love what I've written, but its gotta be posted, so here ya go!  
> \- We've had a super bad winter storm up here, so I don't have any internet. I have to hotspot my phone in order to upload this. fjhsbfjhbsfffjhbsf the internet has to come back already pleeeeeease  
> \- As always, thanks for the support and comments!!!! <33333 They always make my day!!!! xxxxxxx


	6. Fleeting Joy

Hanzo's decision on the party came a few days after the letter arrived on his desk. While he was very reluctant to the idea, he eventually relented and said yes, with much pushing from his advisors and Aleksandra.  _It is good for our image,_  they said.  _Consider our public relations. Do not fight us on this, Sir Shimada. Please relax. Enjoy one night in your life._  And boy, Hanzo surely needed to learn how to enjoy at least some part of his life.

The festivities were scheduled for a few weeks away, giving the Shimada plenty of time to prepare for the onslaught of people and high political figures. Of course, Hanzo kept himself busy as ever, most likely trying his hardest to keep his mind off the oncoming party. The archer was relentless in his planning, making sure everything was pristine and perfect. Just like everything he did in his life. Flawless and with narrowed precision. Jesse did his utmost to help, when Hanzo allowed it.

Over the next several weeks, Jesse was kept busy with random, idle, busy work. Most often, his task was to capture or assassinate someone, tying up loose ends that Hanzo did not fancy elaborating on. While not high on his list on moral things he wanted to do, Jesse conceded and followed directions. It wasn't like he was a perfect angel. He was unable to wash the dried blood on his hands from years of murder under Gabriel's watch, anyway.

Jesse was obedient. Ruthless. Deadly. But most of all, he was  _good_  at it. That was the scariest part. Being good at something your mind resented you for.

Hanzo often accompanied him in the beginning. At first it was because Hanzo didn't trust him, but after awhile, Jesse assumed it was simply because the archer wanted something else to do to keep his mind off of other matters. Also, Jesse's thoughts added unhelpfully, because perhaps Hanzo  _liked_  Jesse's company. As time went on, and their conversations became more friendly, and Hanzo steadily opened up, much to Jesse's delight. The archer was surprisingly warm and open hearted, deep down. It warmed McCree's heart.

The original objective of the mission strayed further and further from Jesse's thoughts as the weeks rolled by. His times with the Shimada- particularly Hanzo- were fun and adventurous. Hanzo was an excellent employer and utilized Jesse's skillset to the utmost of his ability, and when they weren't working, the archer was much more inclined to actually  _talk._  Have  _fun._  They never acknowledged the word 'friend,' there was no need for it. McCree was reluctant to put a label to what they had, and he didn't want to scare the tentative archer away.

Despite being curt, cunning, and seemingly unfeeling about everything, Hanzo was surprisingly… kind. Life dealt Hanzo a horrid hand. Jesse felt incredibly sorry for him.

Currently, Hanzo and Jesse were picking up some cargo for the Shimada mansion at the local docks. Jesse was loading a whole bunch of awkward, heavy crates into their coach. The air was thick and heavy, the only relief being a slight breeze from the Lannahechee River rolling over them like a cool blanket. As always, the port smelled of an awkward mixture of must and mud.

The thick air did little to help McCree's already pounding head. He felt like he was about to explode, combined with an uncomfortable scratchy throat and runny nose. He'd been sick for a few days now, but paid it little mind. The work needed to be done, and he'd been good at hiding his ailment. Today it was at its worst, though, and it was quickly becoming unmanageable, especially with Hanzo so close.

He stood side by side with the archer, brushing him as they heaved up a particularly heavy crate. It still amazed Jesse, weeks later, that Hanzo was willing to do his own work. The fantasies of being rich planted in his head by Gabriel were quickly unraveling the more he got to know his new boss, and to be honest, he was glad.

Jesse's mind halted as he felt his nose tickle. He couldn't remember the last time he had a cold, and he knew he'd taken for granted the ability to breathe properly through his nose. Never again. Being around so many filthy people in this dumb city was not helping his health at all.

As they walked toward the coach, Jesse couldn't hold back anymore. His chest convulsed painfully, jostling the crate.  _Achoo!_

Hanzo lifted one regal eyebrow in his direction, grip on the crate shifting to accommodate Jesse. "Are you well?"

Jesse moved a gloved hand up to his nose, sniffing. He took a step toward the coach, re-balancing the weight in his other hand to ensure he didn't drop Hanzo's cargo all over the docks. "Uhh, I'll be fine."

Ever observant, Hanzo's lips pursed at the reply. Jesse wished at times like this that Hanzo perhaps didn't have such an easy time reading him. "Should we stop?"

"What? Why?" Jesse unceremoniously wiped at his reddened nose with his shirt cuff. "Trust me, I've worked through worse than a dumb cold."

"But you are not performing to your highest extent." Hanzo chided. Was that a hint of… concern in his eyes? He quickly hid the emotion behind another dull mask, much to Jesse's disappointment. "If I am going to pay you, I would rather you work your best."

"Just because I'm sick don't make me useless." Jesse heaved the crate onto the back of the stagecoach. "Trust me, Hanzo; I'll be fine."

Hanzo watched Jesse as he brushed past, brows furrowed. He didn't acknowledge the use of his first name. McCree didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

The two of them went about their work silently, aside from the occasional sneeze. For the first time since Jesse knew the man, Hanzo didn't argue. He didn't quip and didn't order Jesse away. He helped load the cargo into the wagon, and then even helped unload it after they drove back to Shimada mansion. All in complete silence.

The sun was just beginning to dip behind the horizon, casting an unearthly pinkish hue across the sky as the day gave way to night. Jesse was the first to break the silence between them, placing a hand on one of the golden doorknobs of the front door. "It's gettin' late, I should probably head back. Shouldn't mingle too much before I give everyone here this head cold."

At first, Hanzo said nothing, just as before. The archer didn't even glance at him as Jesse shrugged his jacket on and took a step.

McCree was half out the door when a small, low voice sounded out behind him. "Wait."

Jesse turned, eyebrow raised, hand flexing on the door handle. That noise was wholly unnatural for the archer. Had he actually made it?

"You… may stay." Hanzo didn't look him in the eye. He had a peculiar expression on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying either.

"I can stay?" Jesse echoed, confused. "As in, you need me to do somethin' else?"

"No." Hanzo's hands flexed. The archer seemed to be crawling in his own skin. Jesse felt the urge to comfort away the unfitting awkwardness from Hanzo's form. "I am asking you to stay awhile. We can play cards. Drink. Talk."

Jesse was struck speechless. Hanzo wanted him to stay longer… for more than just work?

When Jesse didn't respond, Hanzo's face went stricken. "I can also ask Aleksandra to stay with us, if you are uncomfortable-"

"I'm not uncomfortable alone with you, partner." Jesse felt a laugh burst from him, giddy. Hanzo wanted to  _hang out_  with him. Him, of all people. Hanzo's rich, good looking ass wanted to waste his time on  _him._  "You want me here while I'm sick?"

Hanzo was  _nervous_. It was endearing. "It is only polite to help. I have a few herbal teas that might help your ailment. Overworking you may have led to this; it is the least I can do."

The decision was instantaneous. He shut the door and turned, casting Hanzo with a brilliant smile. "Alrighty, then. It's your funeral. I'll have you know I'm one of the best poker players I know."

Hanzo's stiff shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. He returned the expression, smaller, but with just as much feeling. "You said the same thing about your shooting skills as well, cowboy."

Jesse sputtered, but this time, it was because he was  _happy_ , not because he was jealous. When did that happen? "Let's test it then."

.

"And then my old boss went up to this old hag who was spoutin' the weirdest shit ever, and he tried to be all friendly and stuff, yeah?" Jesse chuckled, remembering Gabriel's way with words. "Then she just outright fuckin'  _decked_  him."

"Respect your elders." Hanzo sneered. He tossed a few chips onto the table. They weren't betting with any money, just good natured fun.

Jesse slapped the table. "The people in New Austin are nuts! I ain't respectin' no old people that wanna skin my hide because they think I'd make a good carpet. You meet some weird dang people out there in the wilderness. Don't make fun of me." He defended. "You even been there?"

Hanzo hummed. "No, and it is safe to say I likely never want to be."

Imagining Hanzo in the wild frontiers of New Austin, silhouetted by the golden fields, was a very unfitting image. Hanzo was skilled, yeah, but how skilled was he against  _stupidity?_  "That's good, but if ya ever do, make sure you bring more than just yer bow. I'd suggest a full set of armor. Maybe a gatling gun. A small army. At least'a thousand dudes."

Hanzo shrugged, a small smile on his lips. "Maybe I shall just bring Aleksandra and you."

Jesse's heart fluttered at the statement. His eyes flicked up from the cards. "Me?"

"Aren't you the best shot in the west?"

Jesse groaned. "Darlin', yer just teasin' me at this point."

Hanzo hummed again. "In good nature."

They continued with their game, this time in comfortable silence. Jesse had been right, Hanzo had the  _best_  damn poker face this side of the Atlantic, but he was much more inexperienced with the game. McCree thanked Hana secretly for hours upon hours of mindless poker play, enduring her jabs at wearing his emotions on his face. He was trying his hardest to beat Hanzo at any game they played that entire night. If he couldn't be the best shot, he could at least be the best poker player.

Hanzo was the first to speak after awhile. "I do believe you are very skilled, Jesse. I do not mean it to sound harsh or demeaning."

Jesse was about to quip back when his mind halted, stumbling on his name. "Did you just call me Jesse?"

Hanzo's eyes went wide. Apparently he hadn't even realized his own slip up. Nice job, McCree. Go ahead and frighten the man, why don't ya? "Oh, I, uh, did not mean to if that is upsetting for you."

An unwanted feeling of nervousness crept it's way up McCree's spine. What was there to be nervous about? "Not at all, partner. I like it. We're friends, you can call me by my name anytime ya want."

Hanzo seemed distant all of a sudden, lost in his head. "Friends?"

How did Hanzo define a friend? Had he ever  _had_  a friend before? "Are we not friends? It's been a few weeks. I thought all those conversations were mighty fine. Do you think we… aren't?"

Hanzo didn't seem to know how to answer the question. He kept his gaze skillfully trained away from Jesse's. He folded. It was a couple minutes before he spoke again. "You are good at poker."

McCree decided he'd best not push the subject. He'd let Hanzo come out of his shell on his own time. There was no use in badgering the man, especially when he was being so open for the first time in awhile. "Well, I've had lots'a practice. You are pretty good for not playin' a whole bunch. Like I said- a damn good poker face."

Hanzo didn't react. He dealt them another hand.

The mood seemed to have turned sour, and Jesse didn't know how to fix it. The man in front of him was a walled up enigma, closed off and hidden. However, Jesse knew there was _more_ there. He wanted it. _Craved_ it. Hanzo was the first person in awhile that Jesse wanted to befriend so dearly. He was about to start up a better conversation, ready to work his (nonexistent) charm, until he was interrupted by a frightfully powerful sneeze.

Hanzo looked up, mild concern. "Are you all right?"

Jesse rubbed his nose with a handkerchief from his shirt pocket. "I'll be 'kay. Dunno why you asked me to stay, I really shouldn't. Could get you and yer other workers sick touching all this stuff."

Hanzo shrugged. "I do not get sick."

"Boy, I wish my immune system was that good."

"It has nothing to do with my immune system."

Jesse raised a brow. Interesting. He grabbed onto the point of conversation and ran with it. Anything to keep Hanzo talking. "You got special potions or plants you holdin' out on from me? Cuz if you do, Imma be might offended."

Hanzo chuckled. It wasn't a happy chuckle. "You would not believe me if I told you."

"Hanz', I got an eye that'll fill red and auto aim for me." He pointed at said eye to emphasize the statement. "Makes magic bullets. Kills everyone in its way. Then I'll get a lil' funky. There ain't much I won't believe, trust me on it."

Hanzo seemed to mull over his words. The man had seen Dead-Eye in action, after all. It killed twenty people around Valentine and nearly the archer himself. After a moment, he relented. "The Shimada have a family legacy that dates back centuries. We are keepers of ancient beasts; beasts that have entrusted our line with their safekeeping. We were deemed worthy of their power, and have remained on good terms ever since."

"Ancient beasts?" Jesse wondered. "Like a bear?"

Hanzo scoffed. "Bears are not ancient nor majestic." He paused, picking over his next words carefully. "I mean dragons."

"You tellin' me you got pet  _dragons_  and you ain't ever let me  _see_  them?"

The archer huffed. "I told you that you would not believe me."

"Whoa, hold up," Jesse said. "I ain't sayin' I don't believe you, I'm sayin' I wanna  _see_  them."

"They are not tangible beasts unless they will themselves to be. Trust me, you do not wish to converse with them. They would likely harm you." He paused again and laughed briefly. "They are also not very nice."

"Awh," McCree pressed, actually disappointed. He wanted to see  _dragons_ , goddamn. That was cool as  _fuck._  "I don't get to pet them? Where you keep 'em, anyway?"

Hanzo, for the first time since the beginning of the night, looked slightly nervous. "Nowhere you can see. Just know that they are here, watch everything I do, and make sure their host is always healthy."

"How do they do that?"

Hanzo's signature glare came back. A welcoming sight compared to the nervousness he just had. A familiar image, one Jesse had grown to know over the past few weeks. "Magic. Just like you say. Let us talk of something else."

Despite his curiosity, Jesse knew their relationship was tentative. There was no use pressing an already irritated dragon. He chuckled, amused. A  _dragon._  No wonder no one believed the archer. But who was he to judge? He knew men the size of giants and had an eye that auto aimed. He could hear his old friends and family in his head. They  _spoke_  to him, wispy and not the least bit judgmental. That couldn't be healthy. He had no room to doubt Hanzo at all. The world was full of curiosities.

He hoped one day he could meet the dragons, no matter how rude they were.

.

"Do you hate me?" Hanzo asked suddenly as they played cards. They had since stopped poker, declaring that they were evenly matched, and moved on to Blackjack. The comment took McCree off guard. Their conversations thus far had been friendly and light, just as they normally were.

The gunslinger's reply was instant. "Of course not." He paused, studying Hanzo's face. "Why?"

"I have made you do terrible things." Hanzo did not look up from his cards. They flexed in his hands, tense and unyielding. "Murder innocent people. Exploited you for manual labor. Threatened your family's well being." The archer paused, pained. "Shot you."

Jesse stared, his own cards blurry as his vision narrowed in on Hanzo's downcast eyes. "Ain't nothing you gotta worry about, partner. I understand. I'm a right asshole."

Hanzo's gaze snapped up, a flash of familiar anger. "You are a good man, Jesse McCree, and I have done nothing but tarnish your character. There is no use in defending it."

"Hey," Jesse reached across, grabbing Hanzo's wrist and squeezing. "All those things I did, I made the choice to do them. I didn't have to, but I did. I ain't a good man. Far from it. But this ain't about me, Hanz', this is about you."

Hanzo stared hard at the point of contact between them, his expression twisting. "You have done nothing but be helpful and supportive for the Shimada. On top of that, you have been nothing but obedient and friendly towards me. You have given me your trust and loyalty when I do not deserve it."

"My loyalty is mine to give, and despite any shitty thing you done in the past, you've earned it. I've killed men for you. I've robbed houses for you. I wouldn't do that for people I didn't like."

Hanzo peeled his hand away. He was retreating into himself, a place Jesse couldn't follow. What was he saying? Hanzo had just expressed he was discontent with the idea he'd tarnished Jesse's character, and Jesse decided to tell him he'd done those things for _him?_ That was the last thing he needed to hear. McCree had to jump into action, and  _fast._

Think. React. Fix the mess you just made. Do it now, before he runs. Do it. _Quick._ "What's brought this on?" Jesse placed his cards down on the table, forgetting about the game entirely. Fuck it. Hanzo needed his help, _badly_ , and he was going to help to the utmost of his ability. "Look Hanzo, I'm the one that decides where my trust and loyalty lies. Sure, it was a little rocky in the beginnin', but hangin' out with you is fun. I  _like_  spending time with you. I  _like_  talkin' to you."

Hanzo cringed and said nothing.

Jesse persisted, wanting to break down those final barriers that Hanzo had between them. Wanted Hanzo to feel safe and comfortable with him. "Y'know, when I was growin' up, I was given this ideal picture of a rich guy. Pompous. Dumb. Lazy. Spoiled all to heck. Everything a poor son of a bitch like me could ever want when I was sleepin' in the dirt and eatin' horse shit." He paused, a self deprecating laugh bubbling out of his throat. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Then I met you, the first rich guy I ever got to know properly, and boy, you really turned that idea upside down and backwards. You're smart, clever, handsome, hell, you got some humor in ya. Yer even hardworking, despite having everything you could ever want."

"I do not deserve your praise." Hanzo said. It made Jesse's chest constrict. This man had crawled down a hole so far down and so secluded that he didn't believe he deserved anything. What could he do to make Hanzo happier? What could he do to convince the Shimada that he was worthy of loyalty or affection? What kind of life had Hanzo lived?

"And that's just it," Jesse retorted. "You don't get to tell me what I can and cannot say, so here we are. I'll lavish you with all the praise in the world until you feel at least a little bit worthy. Life dealt you one of the shittiest hands I've seen for a guy of yer nature, and you embrace the shittiness like it's the only thing you know. I mighta grew up in the slums and you mighta grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth, but at least I got people who love me. Want me safe. Keep me company."

Hanzo stood abruptly from his chair. It skid across the hardwood with a deafening noise. "Excuse me."

"No!" Jesse panicked as Hanzo fled. He followed, defiant. Didn't want to know what Hanzo would do if he left him alone now. "Hanzo, stop!"

"You may leave." He didn't look back. "And stop calling me Hanzo."

"Yer denser than a box of lead, Jesus Christ." McCree's hand shot forward, grasping Hanzo's wrist for the second time that night. The hand was solid and firm, giving the archer no leeway.

Jesse should have expected the retaliation, but he faltered anyway. Hanzo reared around with a growl the second McCree's skin made contact with his. The archer jerked with more strength than Jesse expected, hand fisting into his collar and pulling.  _Hard._  A knee came up and collided with McCree's stomach, knocking the wind out of him and sending him straight to the floor. He fell backwards and landed unceremoniously onto the hardwood with a grunt. Holy  _shit._ At least the archer gave him enough dignity to not ram his knee any further south.

Hanzo's face immediately paled. Hanzo, _no._ Please _don't._ Don't feel bad. "Agent McCree, I-"

"I'd rather you still call me Jesse." McCree interrupted with another grunt, stopping Hanzo's unneeded apology. He deserved it. The archer needed to vent that anger. It was healthy. Needed. Required. He could not continue to live with thoughts so self-demeaning and damaging. He tried and failed to conceal the groan of pain that came out as he placed a hand over his stomach. "Lord, are your knees made of steel?"

Hanzo faltered, stricken. His face was still white, eyes disbelieving. "I shoot you and I hit you, and you still want me to call you by your first name?"

Jesse breathed a laugh, hand still on his stomach as he shifted and stood. It was a slow process, one that hurt, but he honestly didn't mind. He drawled, suggestive; "I like my name on your lips."

The barest hint of embarrassed red made its way onto Hanzo's face, apparent more-so by the fact he was still alarmingly pale. It was cute. Was cute the right thing to say about Hanzo? Maybe endearing. Yeah, endearing. Hanzo would probably be mad if Jesse associated him with anything  _cute._

His stomach churned and throbbed. It was likely going to leave a good black and blue bruise for a long while, but that was the furthest thought from Jesse's mind. As long as Hanzo was safe from unwanted thoughts. Safe from himself and the walls he'd built around him. Break him free. Help him recover, before he kills himself under all of that pressure and self-hatred.

"Hanzo-" He started, wanting to ensure the archer that he would be okay, that a bruise and a torn shirt are the least of his worries at the moment, but he was immediately silenced by shock and a firm pressure on his lips, warm and inviting, and  _completely_  unexpected.

A dense pressure, warm and wet, invaded McCree's senses. His personal space. Everything he was. It took him a moment to register, between his frantic thoughts for Hanzo's wellbeing and his own twinge of pain. The abrupt movement of being jerked again jostled his sore muscles, a combined mixture of pain and sick. Hanzo pressed into him, surefire and unyielding, as he grabbed Jesse's face and slotted their lips together.

Jesse's eyes widened as Hanzo's remained closed with furrowed brows. The archer's lips were molten, insistent; a constant press. Hanzo kissed like he did everything else, precise and perfect, no room for question. Entirely unexpected and  _incredibly_  hot.

Just as soon as Jesse registered what exactly was going on, Hanzo pulled back. Coldness washed over him like ice, as if he was standing at the top of the Rocky Mountains wearing absolutely nothing but his hat. It was unpleasant. Chilling. Boy, he wanted Hanzo to do that  _again._  Wanted that warmth to return to his arms desperately. Like he needed it to live. Breathe. So unexpected. So thrilling. He hadn't realized just how much his feelings for Hanzo had grown. Fast. Was it too fast? Was it possible to fall for someone too fast? Was this the right thing? Were these feelings genuine, or were both men starving for attention and seeking it in the wrong place? It took everything in Jesse's being not to crowd the archer back against the wall and _take,_ right then and there, with no words exchanged. They needed to _talk,_ not rut against the wall like horny teenagers.

The archer's eyes fluttered open, face twisting into a sorry mixture of disbelief and regret. It was just then that Jesse realized he hadn't kissed back. Way to to fuck this up before it even _began._ He let Jesse go, took a few steps back, ready to run. If Jesse needed to act fast before, he needed to move at the  _speed of light_  now. Hanzo was retreating into himself again, those familiar walls building back up, threatening to keep McCree at bay forever. "I apologize, that was entirely-"

"Don't do that," Jesse breathed. His hands shot forward, grasping Hanzo's forearms. "Don't apologize. There's nothing to apologize for."

"Agent McCree-"

Jesse couldn't help the amused bark of laughter. "You kiss me like that and you still insist on calling me 'Agent McCree'?"

Hanzo's eyes darted in every direction, a caught animal ready to flee.

"I'll admit, I wasn't ready. Didn't expect that." Jesse continued, lower and with more feeling. He erased the humor from his tone and replaced it with tenderness, trying to convey his sincerity. An emotion he knew Hanzo desperately needed to hear. He pulled the other man closer, and felt his heart flutter at the fact he went willingly. "I should be the one to apologize. You kiss me and I don't even respond. Mighty rude of me."

Hanzo's eyes settled for staring at McCree's open shirt placket. It made something deep in McCree shutter. Focus. Focus on the conversation, McCree. Hanzo huffed. "There is no need to humor me or my feelings if you do not feel the same way."

Jesse squinted. "That ain't what I said at all."

"I gave you no room to protest." Hanzo rasped. “I grabbed you like an animal and was unable to control-"

"Hanzo, if you don't shut the fuck up for about  _two_  seconds, I'll make you. With my mouth."

Jesse watched with amusement as Hanzo's gaze finally lifted towards his, mouth agape and eyes widened. Then finally,  _finally_ \- as if it had been a near century- Hanzo's breath huffed in the barest hint of a stunted laugh. A much better emotion.

"That's better, see?" Jesse soothed, hands flexing on Hanzo's forearms. "I didn't say no, just that I was surprised. It isn't every day a hot crime boss kisses me after I annoy the heck outta him."

Hanzo tensed. "You do not annoy me."

"Remember what I said about making you quiet. With my mouth. If you don't shut up."

Hanzo snorted, but said nothing.

He moved his hands to Hanzo's, thumbing his palm. "Just because I was surprised don't mean I don't like you. I'll admit I didn't expect you to like me like  _that,_  but that isn't bad. It's good. In fact, it's more than good." He squeezed, comforting. "I want you to feel better; get outta your head a bit, and if likin' me like that can help you, then don't stop."

Hanzo pressed his lips into a thin line. "But you must like me as well. I will not make you do something you do not wish to do. I know it is sudden."

"Honey, I said time and time again before you even kissed me that I  _like_  you. I called you handsome and smart and funny. If you like me too, then dang I'm willin' to try anythin' with you, sweetheart. The speed of it don't matter to me."

Hanzo snorted again. At the endearments or the sentence, Jesse didn't know. But it didn't really matter, because Hanzo was  _smiling._  Wide and amused. Happy and gorgeous. A look he wanted the archer to give him more often. His heart skipped a beat.

He knew what Hanzo's answer was going to be, but he had to ask anyway. "It's what I'd like, so is that what you'd like, partner?"

Finally, finally, _finally,_ Hanzo brought his other hand up. It was warm as he placed it on McCree's chest, coming into contact with some of the skin through his open shirt. One of the best feelings he'd ever had. "You said if I did not shut up that you would silence me with your mouth, and I spoke. I believe you owe me a kiss, then."

Jesse laughed. Bright and wistful. Lighthearted and content. Happier than he'd been in a very _very_ long time. He leaned down and thrilled at the fact that Hanzo jumped, as if on fire, but in a _good_ way. It may have only been a few weeks, but everything with Hanzo was quick and precise, and he felt himself falling headfirst and  _fast,_  entirely unexpected. There was no way he could refuse that request, even if his life depended on it. His smile was infectious as it brushed on Hanzo's lips, breath mingling and pleasantly warm.

"That I do, darlin'. That I do."

 

\---

 

It was still dark when Jesse arrived back at Deadlock camp very early in the morning, pleasantly buzzed on affection. Hanzo's sudden outburst of fondness was new and unexplored territory for Jesse, but the thought of returning to the archer later that evening to engage in a night of festivities left him vibrating with excitement. He already missed Hanzo's company the second they were apart, lost like a lovesick puppy. His eyelids felt heavy and his whole body was exhausted from the evening and his head-cold, but he didn't care. For once in his life, he didn't have a single care in the world.

He hit his bed like a rock, and slept just as well. It was the most restful sleep he'd had in years, despite only being a few hours, and dreamed of nothing.

He awoke to the pleasant smell of breakfast cooking outside, courtesy of Mako. He joined the rest of the gang as they gathered outside and around a campfire to fend off the early morning chill, idly conversing. Mako's cooking was always delicious. No wonder he was so large.

Hana and Lúcio bumped into him, laughing as they told him about some blockheads they met in Saint Denis. He listened to the story but barely registered the words, more intent on hearing their voices than anything else. Both kids made his heart soar, and in the mood that he was, he felt it nearly burst with fondness.

When the meal was over, Jesse sought out Fareeha, drunk with giddiness. She had gone to sit on a felled tree near the outskirts of camp. "'Reha!"

He hadn't spoken to her much recently, both of them busy on different assignments. She perked up as he drew closer. The woman had a map in one hand, and a pencil in the other. She replied with equally mocking enthusiasm. "Jesse!"

He slid over and placed a hand on her head. He ruffled her hair, laughing at her undignified yelp. "Let's go fishin'."

Fareeha blinked up at him. "Fishing?"

"Yeah, like we did back in the day. All good like. I can loan you a pole."

She swatted his hand away playfully. "What's made you want to fish all of a sudden? You haven't fished in an eternity."

"I feel great." He placed his hands at his hips. "Best I have in a long time. I wanna share it with my sis'. Talk with you a bit."

Fareeha put her map and pencil down. She mulled over the offer for a few seconds before sighing. "Fine, but only for a little bit. I have a lead on something big, and I-"

"I don't want you to worry about no missions or money." Jesse interrupted, wanting to hear nothing of Deadlock's ill obtained gains right now. It would dampen the mood. "Just me and you. Like old days."

Fareeha punched his shoulder. "I'll pack some snacks. Meet you here in five."

Jesse clambered up the steps of Shady Belle, skipping steps on his way up to his room. He threw open the door, his heart fluttering and his head in the clouds.

He dug through one of his chests, upturning random items and knick knacks he probably shouldn't have kept for so many years, trying to find his collapsible pole. His hand stilled as it brushed a small wooden box. He grabbed it and opened, forgetting what was inside.

A black and white picture, faded with age, greeted him. It held a group of familiar faces that immediately brought a feeling of intense nostalgia. Jack, hair still bright and blonde and face full of amusement. Reinhardt, ever the giant, face upturned and mouth open in boisterous laughter. Angela, hands on a staff resting at her side, smiled back in welcome. Mei-ling, a woman Jesse hadn't thought of in  _years_ , had hands clasped at her front and her mouth wide open. Torbjörn and Brigitte held up steins and displayed matching toothy grins. Like father like daughter. Lena sat at the front, knees criss crossed, and held up finger guns to the camera.

It was his own ridiculously young face that caught his attention. He stood next to an equally young Fareeha, both of them with their arms across each other's shoulders, looking as if they didn't have a care in the world. They probably didn't. Behind them, Ana, her hands hovering over both of theirs at the shoulders.

His heart both sunk and soar at the same time. He wondered how they were all doing, the ones he hadn't had any contact with. He wondered what Ana would say to him now. He didn't know if she'd approve of Hanzo or not. He knew she  _definitely_  wouldn't approve of his lifestyle, killing and murdering anyone Hanzo or Gabriel told him to. He could hear Ana's voice rise in his thoughts, a ghost of the woman he knew many years before. Younger and bright. He wondered how she'd sound now, decades later. Would she still love him as she did then?

_Habibi, I'm glad for you. You've done well in life. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, especially yourself._

_You shouldn't be,_  Jesse replied to that imaginary voice. He brushed a thumb along the image.  _Pretty sure I'm just a mess. A mess that's had a stroke of luck. Or maybe I died. That sounds more plausible._

 _You are a good man, Jesse McCree._  Hanzo's voice invaded his thoughts this time, an echo of the conversation they had mere hours ago. His chest tightened. Was he?

A noise interrupted his thoughts, a loud clang and the deafening sound of steel toed boots stomping their way up the creaky wooden stairs. Then Gabriel, of course it was  _Gabriel_ , burst in through the weak wooden door. Jesse swore he could hear the wood crack as it banged against the wall.

Gabriel's gaze, piercing as ever, shifted over the room before landing on McCree. He paid no mind to the image in his hands. "The Shimada clan are having a goddamn party, and you don't think to update me on it?"

Oh  _no._  Jesse felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He stuffed the picture into the pocket of his jacket. "Uh, it isn't that I-"

With two quick strides, Gabriel is already on him, hand fisting into the front of Jesse's shirt. He pulled, harsher than Hanzo had. It dug into the back of McCree's neck. "The fuck have you been doing, McCree? You don't tell me what you've found. You don't tell me how much money they have. You don't even tell me if they got a goddamn backdoor we could even walk through. Have you forgotten why I asked you to befriend Hanzo in the first place?"

Deadlock. Money. Honest men.  _Hanzo._  "Gabriel, I… I know-"

"Then why aren't you doing anything?" Gabriel spat. "What leads do you have?!"

Panic was quickly rising in McCree's throat. His good feelings were extinguished in an instant, like cold water over a burning wildfire. How had Gabriel grown to be so good at that, lately? So good at expelling anything good from McCree's life? It left a lump in his throat. "I swear, Gabe, I'm tryin'. It's just, I don't think the Shimada will be easy to rob. I am just thinkin' that maybe… maybe we shouldn't?"

Gabriel growled. "You've grown soft. You _flake_ on me _now?_ I ask you to do one simple thing for the gang, and you doubt me. You doubt me again, after everything I've done for you." He all but threw McCree away, expression in a mixture of exasperated anger and disbelief. "After everything I've  _given_  you! Everything you are and your entire life!"

"This isn't about you, Gabe." Jesse offered weakly. "I'm not denying everything you've done for me-"

Gabriel threw his hands in the air, a man on the brink of a meltdown. "Then why won't you do it?! Why do you resist? Tell me what you have! We need this money, McCree. This score and we're gone!"

Jesse's heart thrummed. "This isn't about Deadlock either."

The wrong thing to say. Gabriel grabbed Jesse's face with one hand, squeezing; like a father disciplining a child. "Then what the fuck is it about?! Why not tell me?" Jesse was sure they could be heard downstairs. Gabriel wasn't being quiet, and it seemed his boss didn't care one bit. A breakdown ready to be heard. A lesson everyone in Deadlock should remember. Never cross Gabriel Reyes  _ever._   _again._

What could he say? What could he do? Nothing in this situation went well for Jesse. Any response, any argument, it would just make Gabriel angrier. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, cornered with the same expression Hanzo made that previous evening. A caged animal ready to flee. He knew his expression was telling, and Jesse knew he couldn't hide anything from his boss, so he remained silent. He hoped his face would do the talking for him.

It did.

Gabriel stared hard for a few moments, seething in anger, trying desperately to understand the man he viewed as a son; knew for so long. Jesse hated it. Hated the stand off. He respected the man, respected him so much. What had he done? What was Jesse thinking? Throwing away everything he knew and loved?  _But you aren't,_  his inner voice argued.  _You're allowed to have your own life. A life apart from Gabriel and Deadlock. A life you want. A life you dictate for yourself. One where you aren't ordered around and can make your own decisions._

"Unbelievable." Gabriel breathed, low, pure disbelief.

Jesse groaned, his face sore. "Boss-"

"You're an absolute fucking moron." Gabriel said, amazement laced in his voice. He let go of McCree's face, tossing it away.

Jesse chuckled, self deprecating. Rubbed his sore chin. "Ain't that God's honest truth."

Gabriel stared. "You're fucking him." He stated. It was not a question.

Oh boy. How to respond to that? He couldn't muck this up even more. Gabriel would  _murder_  him. "We ain't done that yet."

The wrong thing to say. Yet again. God damn it. When did Jesse ever say the  _right_  thing? "Yet?" Gabriel jerked McCree's shirt again, ripping it more than Hanzo did the previous evening. It hurt. "You have such little faith in me that you decide to up and leave for some guy that shot you?"

"Gabriel, no," Jesse breathed, trying hard to maintain his composure. "Not at all. Gabe I swear, you still have me. I've given you everything I have, there is no way I would stop now." The words came from his mouth before he could stop. He didn't know if he entirely believed them.

The Deadlock boss growled again, feral. "Then I need you to tell me how to  _rob_ him."

Jesse stared at Gabe, bewildered. No idea how to respond. No way to respond. Knew he lost, no matter which answer he chose. He'd lost long ago. He'd dug himself his own grave. Time to sleep in it. Forever.

"You make these big declarations and you can't fucking back them up." Gabriel tossed him again. He whirled, and Jesse prepared for his punch by closing his eyes and grimacing. It never came. What came instead was  _worse._  Gabriel's voice was low. Deadly. Slow. "It ends here. It ends now."

Jesse felt an endless pit form in his stomach. Just when he thought he'd found some resemblance of happiness, here was Gabe to squander it. "Gabriel, no-"

No room for argument. "You'll make your decision, right here, right now, Jesse McCree."

"Gabriel, please-"

"You either stay on my side. With Deadlock. You will attend this party, gather the information you need, and deliver it back to me. You will then come with us and we will  _rob_  him. Rob him blind and never look back. We will run, run far, and never come back. You'll be with your family, the people who  _love_  you, unconditionally, and we will live honest lives like we've planned from the  _very beginning._ "

 _Gabriel, please don't do this._  He didn't know if it was his own voice or Ana's. An echo of the past.

The Deadlock boss continued, relentless. "Or you leave. You leave now, and  _never_  come back. You go to that party and have a good time with your new  _fling,_  and you choose that man over Deadlock. Over  _me_. Over Fareeha. Genji. Lúcio! Hana! Moira!  _All of them!_ " Gabriel roared. "You choose the man who  _shot_  you, the man who is probably  _using_  you, over the people you've known almost your  _entire life._  The people who have given you  _everything._ "

There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do. Jesse stood, glued to the floorboards, and ghost of that picture he'd just found (that was now sitting right in his pocket) flickered in his mind. Ana's smile. Angela's letter, tucked in his other pocket. The one in his jacket. He thought of Fareeha's alarmed yelp when he ruffled her hair. Of Lucio and Hana laughing as they told him about the dumb guy in Saint Denis. Of Genji's drunken laugh in Valentine, when they joked and chided each other throughout their lighthearted bet.

"What will it be?" Gabriel said, dark, hands folded across his chest.

"Gabriel, I don't… I don't…"

"You make this decision now, Jesse McCree. Shimada or Deadlock." His gaze was murderous. " _Hanzo_  or  _me._ "

A nearly impossible decision. One Jesse knew the answer to. There was no deniable question as to the answer he had to give. He had thought Hanzo lived in a gilded cage, and he was the free man meant to help break the archer out. McCree was dead wrong. Hanzo's cage may be gilded with gold, but Jesse's was caked in  _dirt._

McCree's answer made him sick to his stomach.

"I'll do it." He heard himself speak. It echoed in his ears, like they were in a room one million miles wide. Just himself and Gabriel. Two men doomed to _hell._ "I will go to the party, and gather what we need to know."

It pleased Gabriel. The right thing to say, for once in his life. His boss hummed. "And then you'll help us rob him?"

Hanzo was wrong. Ana was  _wrong._  He had never been a good man. There was nothing he didn't fuck up. There was no point in being happy when every decision he made was wrong. Wrong. wrong.  _wrong._ Might as well accept it. A cold and worthless fool.

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you guys for all the comments and kudos and reviews!!! I love you all and you always fuel my writing <3 !!!!  
> \- also... are you ready to shift this fic in to.......... MAXIMUM _OVERDRIVE?_


	7. Paying a Social Call

_Jesse McCree, fourteen, was sitting on the floor. He had his ear pressed up against a conference room door, cold and uncomfortable, but the conversation on the other side was too tempting not to eavesdrop on. Beside him, because she always was, was Fareeha, mimicking his position, intrigued as well._

" _The idea is ludicrous." Jack grumbled. The Overwatch commander sounded muffled; far away in the room._

_Gabriel's voice came next, offended. "My ideas are never ludicrous."_

" _They're children." Jack hissed._

" _But they're not animals you can just keep locked up."_

_For once, Jack was silent. Jesse heard an uncomfortable shuffle of feet, as if Jack started pacing.._

_Jesse could picture the frown on Gabriel's face, a glowering look that could kill. He was good at killing. "You just don't want to lose your lab rat."_

" _McCree's gift is remarkable." Jack replied, tone lighter. Almost hurt._

" _You can't keep the kid locked up because he can shoot well."_

" _Last I checked, I was the one in charge," Jack snapped. "Not you."_

" _He has no parents, no blood family. He's grown up in a cage, prodded at because he's got some gift that you want to exploit like the good little soldier you are. Cut Jesse a break and let him be a kid!"_

" _You are thinking like a father, not like a soldier."_

" _Because I'm not a soldier!" Gabriel all but shouted. "Not to Jesse."_

" _You are also not his father." Jack pointed out._

" _He needs some sort of guidance that isn't you!"_

" _It still does not change my mind. Jesse is to remain here, under Overwatch surveillance."_

_There was a pause, as if the two of them were in a stare off. It was a few seconds before there was any sound from the room. Gabriel. "You think McCree's a threat…" He breathed, amazed. "You tote around all high and mighty, thinking you're doing the right thing, when in reality you're just afraid."_

" _I'm not afraid of the kid."_

" _Bullshit, Morrison! It's written all over your face!"_

" _I'm not afraid of McCree," Jack reiterated, defiant. "I'm afraid of Dead-Eye. We don't know how it works, or what triggers it. I'm not putting him out there and potentially harming other soldiers."_

" _You're pushing him away with this. Locking him up will do more damage than if you let him experience life."_

" _You don't know that."_

_A shuffle. Gabriel was beyond angry now. "And you don't know if McCree is dangerous! He's never hurt a fly!"_

" _But he could."_

" _And so could I!"_

_Jack grunted, said nothing in response. Out of will and energy to argue._

" _You need to give him a chance." Gabriel demanded. "He'll go crazy if you keep him here."_

" _The boy stays. That's final. End of discussion."_

" _Jack-"_

" _I said drop it, soldier."_

" _Jack-"_

"  _I am your commander. An order is an order. Now go."_

_The definitive clank of steel toed boots. They stomped, Jack's familiar gait. Jesse was so engrossed in their conversation that he didn't register the boots were coming toward the door. It opened, sending both Jesse and Fareeha stumbling forward as their weight was slung forward. Jesse landed with a pained grunt, chin cracking on the tiled floor._

_Jack raised an eyebrow at the teenagers on the floor, eyes widening._

" _Hello." Fareeha greeted weakly, pulling herself up to a sitting position on her knees, embarrassed._

" _What," Jack paused, exasperated, "are you doing?"_

_Fareeha startled. "Uh, we didn't-"_

_Jesse couldn't hold back his disappointment, a twinge of sad anger. "Why won't you let us go?" He blurted._

_Jack seemed uneasy. Talking to kids was obviously not his specialty. "It isn't your fault."_

" _What do I gotta do to prove myself?" Jesse begged. "I'll do anything, you name it. I'll scrub toilets; I'll eat raw eggs; I'll muck stalls. What do I gotta do, Jack? Name it… please!"_

" _It isn't your fault." Jack repeated. His grip on the doorknob tightened. He seemed frozen in place, unsure of what to say or how to phrase it._

_Jesse felt his chest constrict, emotions hard to contain. Kept secluded in the Overwatch headquarters again, barely even able to go to the training range without supervision? His face screwed up. Looked to the floor. Shouldn't show emotion in front of Jack. He's commander. He knows what's right… I guess._

_So Jesse did the one thing he knew he could do. He refused to meet Jack's gaze. Refused to acknowledge Gabriel's worried inquiry. He didn't even flinch when Fareeha touched his arm._

_Instead, he ran. He ran far, down the Overwatch corridors, ignoring the distressed shouts of the people behind him. Of Gabriel's frustrated growl, yelling at Jack. Of Jack, trying to defend himself, despite the obstacles. He vaguely heard Fareeha shout his name._

_._

_It was much later, when Fareeha had found him, and he had regained some of his composure, that Gabriel found them both in Jesse's room. They sat across from one another on the floor. Jesse had his knees drawn up, arms over them. Withdrawn but not completely isolated. Fareeha sat with folded knees, proper._

_Gabriel was dressed as if he was ready to go on a mission, guns in several holsters around his hips. The definition of a killing machine. A heavy, long black jacket, accented with bandoliers of bullets, draped over his broad form. He uttered one word, no explanation. Definitive. Demanding. "Pack."_

_Jesse jolted. "Pack?"_

" _We're leaving." Gabriel whispered, glancing down the hall, as if looking for someone._

_McCree's nerves prickled. "Leaving?"_

" _Quickly." Gabriel ordered. "Only pack what you need."_

_Fareeha turned worried wide eyes to the older man. "What about-"_

" _Don't worry about anything. We need to go."_

_The thought of leaving, for the first time in years, brought an excited flutter to Jesse. "Is this because of what Mister Morrison did earlier?"_

" _It's because of a lot of things." Gabriel spat. "Things kids like you don't need to worry about. But this place is nothing but misery, especially for you, mijo. I need to get you out."_

_The two teens stood slowly. The thought of running away had always been a present thought in the dark corners of McCree's mind, exhilarating and unobtainable. He grew up here. His parents died so young. Overwatch was the only real family he ever had. It isn't that he hated the people here- far from it. Miss Oxton was bubbly and fun. Doctor Ziegler was nice and caring. Mister Wilhelm might forget his own strength sometimes, but he was boisterous and funny. He'd miss tea with Mei-Ling and tinkering with Mister Lindholm._

_Then there was Ana. She taught him how to hold a gun. She taught him manners and helped him come out of his shy, depressive shell. She taught him that you pick and choose your family- the ones that really care for you. She was his mother, through and through, and provided him comfort and guidance when he needed it most. But she wasn't always there. She was second in command of Overwatch, and sometimes, work came first. Morrison was driven and determined; an excellent leader, but not excellent with children. He thought like a soldier. It wasn't family material. So when Ana wasn't around, and when Gabriel couldn't defend him, he was a prisoner in his own home. The only home he ever had. All because he could do this… thing._

_Where Ana failed to offer comfort, Gabriel always took over. Gabriel was not a pushover; more hardheaded. What he wanted, he got. Ana would never consider running away, she was too invested in her duties. Even now, when Jesse felt at his most miserable, Ana was helpless to defy Jack's orders. She was a good mother and a good soldier, but sometimes, one side had to suffer for the other._

_So here he sat, on the brink of a decision that would ultimately decide his life. A young kid at fourteen, barely old enough to consider himself a man, longing for adventure and freedom. Away from prying doctors and overbearing commanders that treated him like a threat. He wanted to experience a life other than being cooped up room surrounded by blank walls, his only comforts being the one and only friend he's ever had, and the two people who he's ever considered his parents._

_He wanted to take those comforts with him. He knew Ana would say no, dreaded her scolding if she knew he wanted to run. It wasn't her fault- he could never blame her. She tried her best, and he would always and forever cherish that. But there was only so much he could endure alone. Gabriel was giving him a way out- a chance to go and live without ever looking back. He couldn't turn it away._

" _Okay." Jesse decided. The definitive word rang in his ears._

_Fareeha startled, turned to him. "You're going to run?"_

" _What choice do I have?" He couldn't meet her gaze. "I'll go crazy here." He paused, saddened, but determined. "I'm sorry."_

" _What about mom?"_

_Jesse flinched at the mention of the one person in his life he didn't want to disappoint. "It's not her fault I want to leave."_

" _Mija," Gabriel turned his gaze to Fareeha, soft and somber, "you don't have to come with us if you don't want to."_

_Fareeha gawked. She looked back and forth from McCree to Gabriel rapidly, unsure. Her hesitation was a good enough answer for him._

" _I'll miss you." Jesse finally looked at her, eye contact and everything. It may be years before he could see her again, he needed to memorize this moment. They were running from police. They were going to be fugitives; wanted criminals and all. He wanted Fareeha to know just how much impact she'd had on who he was as a person. Just as much as Gabriel and Ana. "You're my best friend. I couldn't have done any of this without you."_

_Fareeha's face twisted, the absolute saddest expression he'd ever seen crossed her features. He hated being the cause of it._

_Gabriel spoke after a few silent moments, letting reality sink in. "I'm sorry it is this way, but we need to go, Jesse. This is not going to be easy, and I need you ready to defend yourself on our way out."_

_Jesse whipped his head to Gabriel, suddenly anxious. Gabriel expected a fight? "Defend myself? I don't have a gun…"_

" _Take this." Gabriel pulled something from the many holsters at his hip. A gun, specifically a revolver. The shiniest, newest, most beautiful gun Jesse'd ever seen. "I had meant to give this to you a long time ago, but Jack would never let me."_

_Tentatively, Jesse took the revolver. It was a perfect weight, as if Gabriel made it for him. The wood on the grip was smooth and etched with an intricate, elegant design. Perfect. "You're… not afraid of me?"_

" _Jesse, I have never been afraid of you or your gift. Fuck whatever Jack says."_

_McCree's heart throbbed, emotional._

" _I'm coming with you." Fareeha blurted._

_Jesse's grip on his new gun flexed. Did… did he hear her right?_

" _Are you sure?" Gabriel asked._

" _You're my best friend too, Jesse." Her expression was still that horrendously sad twist. "I don't know what I'd do without you."_

" _I won't argue with that." Gabriel waved a hand and unholstered his own gun. "Now pack. We need to go, and knowing Jack, he's gonna make this difficult."_

_For the first time in a long while, with the promise of Gabriel as his guidance and Fareeha alongside him, Jesse felt that spark of hope. Of freedom and adventure. Nothing could stand in his way. "Where will we go?"_

" _Anywhere you want, mijo."_

 

_\---_

 

Fareeha greeted him as soon as he left Shady Belle. He was loathe to blow her off, especially since the idea to hang out was his, but after his conversation with Gabriel, he didn't think he could muster up the mood to fish. As always, despite not knowing what happened (Gabriel's voice must have been quieter than he'd thought), Fareeha nodded in understanding, ever so supportive and comforting. He didn't deserve her one bit. She asked if she could help, but he shrugged her off and said he'd talk later.

The morning passed by, dreary and boring. Around afternoon time, McCree made his way to Saint Denis, mustering up as much courage as he could. Meeting with Hanzo was going to be dreadful for a multitude of different reasons. It isn't that he disliked the archer- not at all. Thinking back to the previous night, over his actions and the genuine fun the two of them had, he didn't regret one moment of it. In any other circumstance- in any other universe- Jesse would be ecstatic to be meeting his new… was boyfriend the right term? That word seemed pathetically childish for a man in his thirties. He was old. Lover? Well, that was taking things awfully fast. Significant other? Yeah, that one's better. Significant other. But, unfortunately, this wasn't another universe, and as he walked up to the gates surrounding Shimada mansion, watching as the guards recognized him and opened the bars, his stomach churned.

Hanzo was not outside. Even before their new romance, the archer usually greeted him with tasks right away. Instead, Zarya stood there in his place, waiting with a stack of unidentifiable papers. She barely noticed McCree as he came up.

"Hey, Zarya," Jesse greeted, trying his utmost to stay nonchalant. Zarya and Hanzo were both incredibly smart and easily saw through deception. Jesse wasn't too good at hiding his feelings, but perhaps he could blame his anxiety symptoms on tiredness and his cold. "Where's Hanzo?"

Zarya looked up and grinned. Good, then. Hanzo wasn't dead. The Russian woman would definitely be in a worse mood if she no longer had an employer. "Ah, not even a 'how are you doing Zarya?' Which is well, by the way. No, you went straight for asking about Sir Shimada. I see how you feel."

Jesse flushed. Manners, right. "Oh, uh…"

Zarya punched his shoulder. Not very hard, thankfully. "I'm kidding with you. " She laugh. "Sir Shimada has been very busy with preparations regarding this evening's activities, and I've been helping out as much as I can. You and him have brought most of the supplies over the past few weeks, it is honestly just getting everything ready now. He wanted me to greet you when you arrived."

"Oh," Jesse willed his expression to remain calm. He didn't know how much Hanzo had told her about their new… relationship. He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a drag to help frayed nerves. "Great. Uh, should we just go find him then?"

"Yeah. Come on in." She turned and motioned over her shoulder. "By the way, I assume you're going to be a bodyguard or security this evening, yeah? Sir Shimada assigned me as a personal guard for the mayor a few weeks ago. Has he given you a role yet? I'm trying to keep track of everyone."

Oh. He hadn't thought about how he'd be attending the party. It was so second nature to just be Hanzo's guard, he hasn't considered the idea of being assigned elsewhere. "Hanzo has yet to give me an order on it."

"Okay, I'll just put you down as…" She trailed off as she made a pencil mark, "...undecided."

A crash came from the other room, followed by a distressed yelp. Both Jesse and Zarya jumped in alarm.

" _Kuso!_ " A wonderfully familiar voice sounded out. Of  _course_  the first thing Jesse heard from Hanzo that day was a sound of frustrated disgust. What other sounds did Hanzo make? Ha-ha. "Do you not know how to walk without hitting anything?!"

Zarya beckoned McCree as she started toward the room. "He's stressed." She whispered, chuckling. A playful tease, but  _boy_ , did McCree know the feeling. She shouldered the door open and gave a curt wave, wide grin on her face. "Mister Shimada, sorry to interrupt, but Agent McCree is here!"

There was a frightened Shimada agent on the floor, dusting up what appeared to be a broken vase. Next to him, Hanzo, a sight so incredibly handsome and welcoming. Hanzo's head snapped up, and Jesse felt an odd mixture of dread and relief at the flicker of warmth and recognition. I mean, they'd made out mere hours ago. He hoped Hanzo would be happy to see him. "Je- Agent McCree." He stood straight. Of course. Professional. "Excellent, I have been been wanting to speak with you."

"All ears, darlin'." Jesse couldn't help the slip up endearment. There was absolutely no universe where they worked as a couple. McCree was going to fuck this up  _so_  bad.

It's all right. Jesse deserved it. It's all he did. Fuck everything up.

Hanzo's eyebrows rose. His shoulders flexed ever so slightly. "Right. I wanted to speak with you about the party this evening." He paused. Was there a slight flush to his features? There was definitely some red on those cheekbones. "Specifically... your attendance."

"Zarya told me ya assigned her to the mayor." Jesse hooked his thumbs to his belt. "Does that mean I'm assigned to you?"

A silent beat. Hanzo rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick. "I do not want you to attend the party as a guard."

Jesse's thoughts stumbled. "Am I not allowed to go?"

"That is not how I intend-" Hanzo rubbed a hand down his face, trying to pick his words carefully, "I do not want you to attend as a guard because I want you to attend with me. As a partner." He hesitated before clarifying. "As you say… a date."

Jesse's immediate reaction was complete and utter delight, temporarily forgetting his mission that night. A date? With  _him?_

Zarya whistled, low and knowing. The woman had a giant smirk on her features as she crossed her arms.

"I, uh…" Jesse trailed off, stunned. A date with  _Hanzo Shimada?_  In  _public?_  He had to be dreaming. Was he dreaming?

Hanzo seemed distraught at Jesse's flustered response. "You do not have to say yes if you do not wish to."

"No!" Jesse exclaimed. "Not at all!" He paused with a choke. "I mean- yes! Yes I will. Boy howdy, let me start over." He let out a nervous breath. He was over thirty; there was no reason to be as giddy as a schoolboy over this. "Yes, I'll come to the party with you. As a date. Yeah."

Hanzo brightened. "Fantastic. Thank you."

Jesse chewed on the cigarette at his lips. "No, thank you! I can't believe ya wanna be seen with dumb, dirty lookin' me."

Aleksandra chuckled at the same time Hanzo grabbed McCree's arm. "You are not ugly." He scolded.

Jesse shrugged. He didn't want to argue.

"I have something for you, perhaps it will help change your mind." Hanzo chimed. "I had it ordered a while ago."

Jesse flashed a wicked look. "A while? Were you plannin' on takin' me out for a long time then, darlin'?"

Hanzo hummed. "Perhaps." He looped his arm around McCree's and ushered him upstairs. "I ordered you a suit."

Oh, does Hanzo's arm feel  _heavenly_. "A suit?" Jesse asked, touched. "For my ugly mug? You shouldn't have."

Hanzo swatted him. "You are not ugly. Do not make me say it again. Now come."

Jesse never followed an order so happily in his life.

.

As the sun went down over the horizon, casting an eerie orange glow over the Shimada residence, Jesse began to feel sick.

The gunslinger stood in an upstairs bathroom, hands on either side of the sink as he stared down the drain, contemplating if what he was doing was the right thing. Of course it wasn't. He didn't know why he could ever think otherwise. Hopeless thinking. Fuck up. Waste of goddam space. Oh boy. Breathe. Relax. It'll all be over soon.

He hadn't worn any proper dress clothes in awhile. He'd never actually attended a proper formal party, let alone one dictated by a large crime syndicate and a goddamn  _mayor._  Hanzo had a surprisingly good eye for fashion, gifting Jesse a burgundy suit matched with a pitch black undershirt. Sleek and stylish. His hair was combed back and tamed by Hanzo's personal stylist. It had to be criminal to look  _this_  good while also plotting to rob the man.

He stared at the porcelain sink, trying his hardest to maintain some composure. He'd have to survive the night without Hanzo or Zarya finding out about his intentions, and doing so would be no easy task. Both of them were incredibly intelligent, and likely had more experience being sneaky and discrete than he did. Usually Jesse solved his issues with guns and death. The easier way out. Killing. He prayed this one instance didn't end that way.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, a wickedly dashing version of himself staring back. He didn't deserve a thing he had. He didn't deserve to be standing in one of the most elegant and clean bathrooms he'd ever been in. He didn't deserve to be dressed in the finest suit he'd ever seen. He didn't-

"Jesse?" Hanzo's voice called from the other side of the locked door. "Have you died?"

McCree jerked back from the sink, rubbing his face free of sweat. He felt a sickening cough bubble out of him. Showtime. Play it cool. Just survive the night. Survive and make Gabriel proud.

Jesse unlocked the door and opened it. Hanzo stood on the other side, hand pulled up as if he was about to knock again. The archer, as always, looked incredible in a dark blue suit with accented golds, hair pulled back in his normal high ponytail. Pristine and proper. The fitting image of royalty.

"Heya, pumpkin'." Jesse grinned, momentarily stunned by Hanzo's looks. He offered a small two fingered salute. "Thanks for the new duds. I promise not to ruin them. Although, I gotta say, you look better than I'll ever hope to be."

There it was. That small flush that adorned Hanzo's face when anything remotely romantic or endearing was directed at him. Hopelessly cute. "Thank you." His eyes fixated on the highest button on Jesse's shirt. An interesting expression Jesse couldn't place. "You clean up well."

"Well, you can polish a shit," Jesse chuckled, stepping up into Hanzo's personal space, "but it's still a little shit."

Hanzo's eyes narrowed, that piercing gaze flicking up. He didn't react to being so close to the gunslinger. In fact, he seemed slightly offended. "Nonsense. I polished a good man, with a kind heart and a soft soul. However, he looks good regardless of what he wears."

Oh, how sickeningly  _sweet._  Jesse grinned, sly and suggestive. He leaned in close, ready for a kiss. He wanted it. Craved it. He had no right to demand it but couldn't help himself anyway. "I wonder if ya'd say that if I was wearing nuthin'."

A flicker of heat. A thump of a heart. Hanzo grinned back, but didn't kiss him. "Perhaps we can find the answer to that statement sooner rather than later."

McCree froze. Any train of thought he had stopped dead in its tracks. Deceased. Departed. Holy shit. He hadn't expected Hanzo to flirt back so readily. Also… had Hanzo, Hanzo Shimada, rich millionaire crime boss with one of the most handsome faces Jesse'd ever seen… just implied he wanted to  _do_  him? A crusty, dirty, plain looking cowboy? Oh honey, you could do better. He wanted to kiss the archer so bad.

Before Jesse could react, Hanzo turned, that shit eating grin still plastered on his face. He knew exactly the effect of his words. "Pull your jaw up from the ground and let us go downstairs. Zarya has informed me that guests have begun to arrive, and it would be polite to greet them as their hosts."

Pull yourself together, Jesse. There's no way Hanzo will want to sleep with you after you fuckin'  _rob him._  No use in dwelling on it. He was disappointed, especially after being denied a kiss, but smiled nonetheless. Keep it cool. It's not yours to take. "All right, partner. Lead the way."

Jesse followed Hanzo down the beautiful halls, a sight that would normally captivate him in any other situation. Right now, though, he could barely pull his gaze away from the archer's back, a bizarre mixture of excitement and dread pooling in his stomach. There really wasn't any reason why McCree couldn't enjoy  _some_  of the night. Hanzo's cooks had prepared a variety of foods and beverages that the gunslinger had never eaten before. There were so many people to meet, so many games to play. Despite his deception, he wanted to provide Hanzo a night of relaxation. The man deserved it, after everything he'd done. After everything that was going to happen. One night of fun couldn't hurt anyone.

When they reached the top of the waxed wooden stairs, Hanzo held up an elbow. "Let us escort one another."

Jesse snorted. Is this how Hanzo would always be? Secretly romantic? He mourned the loss he'd soon face.  _You don't deserve it. Don't dwell on it._  He said nothing, not trusting his voice, and linked arms. Hanzo's were pure taut muscle, a solid wall compared to how Jesse knew his felt.

Hanzo schooled his face in to a professional cold look, but Jesse could see the hint of heat and excitement in his eyes. If there was one thing he learned from his time as one of Hanzo's agents, it was that while the archer held a stony exterior, his emotions always came through in those eyes.

They stationed themselves at the front doors, greeting the guests as they came in one by one. Hanzo seemed brighter. More lively. Jesse couldn't help his own genuine smile.  _You don't deserve him. He's too good for you. You're a worthless piece of shit and he's a mountain of pure gold. Get over it._

…  _he's gonna kill you._

.

Jesse found himself at the free bar later that evening, trying his hardest not to drink too much. There was no way he could perform his duties drunk. Still, free whiskey was really hard to pass up. Hanzo sat next to him, idly swirling sake in a glass, conversing with someone Jesse'd never met before. A business partner.

"I've never met this man before." A gentleman with a heavy French accent gestured to Jesse with a raise of his glass. "Who is this?"

McCree's back straightened, not expecting to be addressed. He was a nobody, after all. Who would want to speak to him when  _Hanzo Shimada_  was right here?

"This is my partner, Jesse McCree." Hanzo answered for him. The archer turned to Jesse, expression softening. "Jesse, this is Gérard Lacroix, a frighteningly superb business affiliate. We have known one another for years. Since we were young, actually."

Gérard Lacroix. Jesse had heard the name before in passing. The Frenchman was impressively wealthy, often a dream target for outlaws in the frontier. Gabriel had been interested himself once, many years ago, but decided against it. He thought robbing high profile targets was too dangerous back then. The absolute irony.

"It's a pleasure, Mister Lacroix." Jesse went to tip the hat he normally wore as his usual greeting. He felt awkward when he realized  _oh_ , it wasn't there tonight. Whoops.

"Ah, a country man!" Gérard extended his hand, pinpointing Jesse's easily definable accent. "Nice to meet you, Mister McCree. I did not know Hanzo's influence extended so far outside of Saint Denis."

Jesse accepted the handshake. Firm and friendly. "He gets around."

"So he does." Gérard placed a hand on Hanzo's shoulder, a coy look. "So is this another affiliate, or someone, hm, a little more personal?"

Hanzo pushed the man's hand away, although Jesse could see the amusement in the action. Much like Fareeha would push him. Almost brotherly. "He is both."

"How scandalous!" The Frenchman's mustache twitched with his amused expression. "Mixing work and pleasure! Who would have thought that Hanzo Shimada would do such a thing?"

Hanzo scoffed. "You are hardly one to talk. Where is the new Misses Lacroix?"

"Catching up with an old friend. I hope she's not off realizing she's far too out of my league." Gérard laughed.

The statement hit Jesse a little too close to home. He couldn't surprise the frown as he looked into his drink.

As if on cue, a tall, slender, beautiful woman walked up to the three men. She was dressed in an assorted array of deep purples, dress pulled tight to accent her small waist and the large flair at the hips. "Bonjour, Monsieur Shimada." Her voice was cool, more accented than Gérard's. A haunting melody. "It has been awhile since we last spoke."

"Hisashiburi." Hanzo greeted back, nodding his head. "I am glad you two could make it."

"The Shimada Clan? Hosting a party?" Gérard took a sip of his wine. "Would not miss it for the world."

"Who is this?" Misses Lacroix turned to Jesse. Her gaze was frighteningly piercing. Gabriel had  _nothing_  on her.

"This is Hanzo's new man." Gérard placed a hand around his wife's waist. "Jesse McCree. A real cowboy. Mister McCree, my wife. Wife, McCree."

Jesse would not make the same hat tip mistake again, especially in front of this woman who was clearly judging him. Instead, he tried his hardest to put on a genuine smile, accenting his drawl. It always worked on the ladies. "Nice to meet'cha, Misses Lacroix."

She returned the smile, if only a little. Did Hanzo take lessons from her, or did she take lessons from him? "Amélie. Heureux de vous rencontrer."

He didn't have the heart to tell her he had  _absolutely_  no idea what she just said. He hoped it was something good.

"Has Mayor Winston shown his face here, yet?" Gérard questioned, tone growing more professional. "I'll admit to having ulterior motives for coming here. I need an audience with him, and he's dreadfully difficult to get in to contact with sometimes. I wanted to speak with him here."

"He arrived not too long ago, but he has been a very popular man this evening." Hanzo answered, looking out into the crowd of people. Beyond the initial foyer, a few rooms were accessible for games and lounging. The entire back garden had been opened as well, just beyond the patio backdoor. The mayor could be anywhere.

"I can fetch him for ya." Jesse piped up, eager to do something other than sit and loathe himself. Maybe  _walking_  and loathing himself would be a much better combination.

Hanzo seemed surprised. "You know what he looks like?"

"I seen his face plastered on political posters and other election stuff." Jesse downed the last of his whiskey in one practiced gulp. He didn't expect the harsh burn to affect his already sore throat. "Oh boy." He coughed. "Um, yeah. I can go get him, though. Just gimmie a few."

"Appreciated!" Gérard thanked with an idle wave.

"Do not get too lost." Hanzo teased. "I will need you later."

The gunslinger promptly ignored the Shimada's remark (unless he wanted to die in front of his new acquaintances) and pushed himself off the counter. He made his way out to the back gardens, weaving through the thick crowds. The sheer amount of people at Shimada mansion made his head spin, not used to the heavy bustle and sound of people so close. He felt claustrophobic, the weight of Peacekeeper concealed inside his jacket pocket the only thing keeping him sane.

Tracking the mayor down was significantly easier than expected. There was a huge circle of people near the center fountain, all with expensive wine glasses in their hands. They laughed and cheered, the impressiveness of their high class outfits blinding. The jewelry on the women dazzled in the soft lighting with the fountain's water. Gabriel should rob these people instead.

"Monsieur le maire," A risque woman with a low bodice fanned herself with an exquisite paper fan, decorated in swans and cranes. "Is there any information on the taming of local outlaws? I feel much too unsafe with all of the robberies around the city lately."

There he was; the mayor. He held a crystal wine glass as he leaned on the fountain, square glasses framing a thin face. Short brown hair greyed at the sides, although it made him look considerably older compared to the sleekness the grey brought Hanzo. In truth, the mayor looked suspiciously more intelligent than any politician Jesse had ever had the misfortune of knowing. Upon first glance, he seemed more a scientist and not a mayor. Friendly and intelligent.

"Nonsense, my lady. I have taken public safety very seriously." The mayor did not have a distinguishable accent of any kind. "The Shimada have been very helpful in keeping the city safe."

"Aren't they criminals too?" A daring gentleman next to the mayor challenged. "We shouldn't have filth like them in our city, let alone trust them with protection."

"You should have hired Overwatch." A different lady chirped.

"Agreed. A much more reputable organization." Another man raised his glass.

"Now, now," The mayor held his hands up, defensive. A frown grew on his face. "There's no need to be disrespectful to our hosts or racist in my presence. You may kindly leave if you're going to be."

Intervene now, Jesse. When the mayor is displeased with his shitty company. The gunslinger pushed his way into the tight knit circle, receiving a variety of awkward and offended stares. "Howdy!"

"Excuse me," The risque woman from before huffed with agitation. She fanned herself with impressive speed. "These countrymen have no manners."

Resist punching pompous nobles in the face.  _Resist punching pompous nobles in the face._

"Hey, I recognize you!" The mayor was the only one in the circle that didn't look at him with extreme distaste. In fact, the man with square glasses was smiling. "You were with Sir Shimada at the door earlier, greeting people as they came in. Thanks for being so inviting. The Shimada are always fantastic hosts."

"That's me," Jesse held his thumb up. Cheeky. "No problem, partner. Speaking of Hanzo, he wants t'see ya. They're inside by the bar."

The mayor perked up, stepping forward. "Oh! Excellent. Ladies, and gentlemen, it has been a pleasure, but I can't say no to my gracious hosts. I shall speak to you later!"

The mayor followed Jesse out of the gaggle of people, making sure to stay plastered close to the gunslinger's side.

"Oh gosh, thank you for getting me out of there." The mayor took a small sip of his wine as they walked. He smacked his lips. "I'm quite tired of people giving me flack for working with the Shimada. They're such skilled and trained fighters, it's hard to overlook that sort of talent just sitting right under your nose."

McCree placed a hand in his pocket. He felt nervousness begin to creep it's way up his spine. It was showtime soon. The mayor would be the perfect distraction. "That they are."

"But where are my manners!" The mayor placed a hand on his chest, as if he'd offended himself. He held that hand out soon after in greeting. "Harold Winston, mayor of Saint Denis! I also am a lover of science, I'll warn you. If you work for Sir Shimada I'm sure I'll talk to you much more in the future."

Jesse took the hand and shook. He wasn't going to be working for Sir Shimada very much longer. "Jesse McCree. Hired gun."

"A genuine cowboy!" Mayor Winston marveled. What was with these city people in thinking that cowboys were super cool? "It is very rare I interact with guys like you. The pleasure is all mine."

McCree didn't answer. He found his throat constricting, a distressed cough bubbling out of him. He shook himself off and made his way inside, pleased to see that Gérard, Amélie, and Hanzo were still conversing by the bar.

The mayor shuffled over, arms opening in greeting. Gérard stood, pulling the mayor into a big hug. Both men started talking away a whole bunch of nonsense that Jesse was uninterested in. He was much more focused on his mission. The mansion was slowly becoming hotter, more stuffy, and he felt his cold flare up, an uncomfortable pressure in his head.

Hanzo hadn't looked up. Distracted. Time to go.

 _I'm sorry_. Jesse's mind buzzed as he turned away toward the stairs the two of them had come down just earlier. Escorting one another on their date.  _I'm sorry- I'm sorry._

The climb up the stairs was agonizing, the combined feeling of heat and dread and pressure threatening to make him collapse. In another universe he was okay. In another universe he wasn't such an asshole. In another universe he didn't have to do  _this._  This duty to his family; to Deadlock. To ensure Fareeha and Genji had everything they could ever hope for. Everything they deserved. To ensure Hana and Lúcio were safe; that they could turn around and live more honest lives. This sacrifice he'd make for them, beyond past redemption. His actions were despicable and dishonest, but he'd never made a correct decision in his life. It didn't matter what he did or how he did it, as long as Deadlock received what they needed. He was Deadlock's lackey, through and through. He could never tell them no.

McCree knew Hanzo had a locked study down the hall, filled to the brim with official documents and important reports. He'd only ever been in the study when Hanzo invited him, on rare occasions. Most of the time, there were advisors with them as they mulled over some report Jesse barely understood. Important documents pertaining to Shimada funding and the inner workings of the whole clan. The perfect documents to tell Jesse how to rob him.

The gunslinger approached the door, breathing through his nose and keeping quiet. He needed to be quick. He came prepared to pick the lock, and as he reached for the small tools hidden in his suit jacket, he gave the door a double take.

The door was open, ever so slightly. The smallest, barely detectable crack. But it was there. Unlocked and ready to enter.

Jesse's blood ran cold.

The dread magnified. Someone had to be here. Someone beat him to it. Who? Was there another gang in the Shimada residence? He didn't know, but he'd soon find out. Jesse threw the door open, breathing heavily as he scanned the small room. Bookshelves lined the walls from top to bottom, a mismatched assortment of classics and biographies. Nothing Jesse would ever be interested in. A beautiful oak desk, glossed and stained a deep red, sat at the far corner. Cabinets lined the sides of the wood, each locked with a key.

There was no one in the room. Nothing looked out of place since the last time Jesse had been there, save for a small note twinkling like a white beacon on the desk. He walked forward, wary, and snatched the letter up. The handwriting was excellent, top tier calligraphy. Better than Angela's.

_\- Sorry to disappoint, but there is no money here, nor will there ever be._

Jesse blinked. Read the note over at least four more times. Nothing about it's contents changed. He stared at the script, the letters blurring.

… what?

A low ringing began to chime in Jesse's ears. He began to search frantically, high and low, all around the office. A safe? No. Any stashes? No. There were stacks of papers, but no bonds. Just documents. Letters. Business dealings and orders. He'd made a mess at this point. There was no hiding what he'd done. The less Jesse found regarding any money, the more he panicked. Someone in Shimada mansion  _knew_. They knew what he was doing. Knew he was here. This had all been for  _nothing._ Who knew? Who  _knew?_

The ringing in his ears gave way to a much more unwelcome sound. He knew he couldn't escape it. A taut pulling of string.. The creek of wood. There were no footsteps, but the sound was familiar. He'd heard it countless times when shooting with Hanzo in the countryside. He'd heard it in the chaos of Valentine all those weeks ago, even in his post Dead-Eye stupor. He'd heard it at the defining duel in Rhodes, confirming that he was indeed not the best shot in the west.  _You tried your best habibi. Don't ever doubt yourself._

"Jesse McCree," the  _one_  voice he didn't want to hear, stern and cold. Please God, not like this. Please, good Lord  _no._  No no no  _no no._

McCree's fingers flexed, clenching down hard on the paper in his hands. It creased, an audible crinkle. His voice failed to speak, too caught in a hazy fear. His mind ran over itself, almost like a broken record-  _you fool. you fool. you fool. You lost. You failed. Yer a dead man walking._

That voice, low and calculated. Just like before they were together. No leeway for argument. "Put your hands up, McCree."

Jesse raised both of his hands slowly, ever so  _slowly,_  that paper still in his fist. He rose from his crouched position on the floor, turning as he did so, his terrified facade meeting  _Hanzo's._ The rolling thoughts in his head changed. There's no money. None at all. It's not here.  _It's not here. He knows._

The archer's bow was drawn, arrow ready and aimed directly between McCree's eyes. He would not miss if he let it go. He aimed to kill. He was ready for it. A cold blooded assassin, just as everyone claimed he was.

"Darlin'." Jesse murmured. It was the only word his throat could form.

He heard the bow flex and string pull tighter. "I expected you to do this weeks ago. I am surprised you waited so long."

Hanzo said  _what?_  "Darlin', don't shoot-"

"Do not call me 'darling.'" Hanzo's back straightened as he interrupted. His chin rose, looking McCree down it with disgust.

"Hanzo," Jesse croaked, too stunned to move, "Hanzo, I can explain everything-"

"There is no need." The archer took a single step into the room, bow still drawn. "I know what you are doing. I am not a fool."

Jesse flinched at the tone. "It's not what you think-"

"I know everything that Jesse McCree of the Deadlock gang is doing. His plans to rob me. His plans to kill me." Hanzo's gaze darkened. Murderous. Ready. Oh, honey, no. "Under the orders of his boss, Gabriel Reyes."

Jesse's eyes widened, heart stopped. How does Hanzo know this? How does Hanzo know Gabriel's name? They've never met. Jesse had only mentioned him in passing, but never by name. The pieces didn't line up.

Gabriel had been playing the game for him. One of his boss's infamous plans, foiled again. Play Hanzo like a fiddle. Take his money. Do it and don't look back. But there is no money, and Hanzo is not so easily deceived. It was like they were on a chess board. Jesse and Gabriel had check, when in reality, Hanzo had check _mate._

"How?" Jesse breathed.

Hanzo growled. "I am not an idiot, McCree. I did not get where I am by being outsmarted by people like you."

The reality of Hanzo's words sank into McCree's consciousness. The realization hit like a ton of bricks. Heavy. Suffocating. Blood red. "You've known." He stated, eyes boring into Hanzo's. "You've known all along."

"That you and your commanding officer planned to deceit me and steal my fortune? Then run away and never look back? Yes," the archer griped, a sour tone, "I have known since day one of your scheme."

"How did you know?" Jesse couldn't look away from Hanzo's face. The pieces still didn't line up. "Did someone tell you?"

"You think you were  _clever,_ " Hanzo snickered, a huff of a laugh. "A high profile robbery in Blackwater, conducted by the infamous Deadlock gang, fails miserably. A few weeks later, a bank in Valentine is robbed by the same gang, and  _you_  are there, killing anyone in your way." The archer twists his wrist, arrow flickering in the lamp light. "Jack Morrison told me who you were then and there, it is how I knew your name when we met in Rhodes."

Jesse's head spun.

Hanzo continued, relentless. No stopping him. "You spouted nonsense about wanting to know why Overwatch worked with the Shimada. Why would that information be pertinent to you? I shall answer that; it is not. It was a cheap tactic to get into the clan. I am not stupid, and am offended you believe I am. You failed to steal the money in Blackwater, so you came to New Hanover and Lemoyne to make up the fortune you lost."

The image of Hanzo aiming at him in Rhodes played in his head, an echo of the exact moment they were standing in now. He knew then. Hanzo has  _known._  From the very  _beginning._

"You coulda said no." Jesse pointed out weakly. "I lost that duel and you still took me here."

"I could not gamble the risk of Deadlock becoming a major threat to the Shimada." Hanzo spat. "Keeping you under surveillance here in my mansion was far easier than sending agents to keep track of your gang. It gave me time to plan. Gave me time to think. Now I have you here, at the other end of my arrow. Foiled and as poor as before."

Jesse flexed his fingers as the tip of Hanzo's arrow came closer. It was only maybe a foot away at this point. The paper in his hands crinkled again, reminding him what was on it. The letter. Regal script. Hanzo planted it.  _Hanzo_  planted it. Hanzo left the door open. Hanzo, Hanzo,  _Hanzo_. It all clicked together.

"There's no money." Jesse observed, dropping the paper to the floor. It fluttered. He kept his hands raised. "There's no money here at all."

"If you read my note, you would know this." Hanzo jeered. "All of my fortune goes to running my business and Saint Denis. All leftover funds are safe in Japan, away from people like you."

There's a beat of silence. Jesse's hands lowered a little, face twisting. "You  _kissed_  me."

For the first time during this encounter, Hanzo  _flinched_ , an ever so slight jerk of his shoulders. Jesse noticed, eyes widening. Hanzo's voice, when he replied, wavered. "A persuasive distraction."

No wonder things moved deceptively fast. Oh, he thought his heart hurt earlier _._  It was  _nothing_  compared to now. "Yer lyin' to me."

Hanzo raised a regal eyebrow. "What?"

"Yer lyin' to me. Pullin' my strings. Talkin' complete and utter horseshit." Jesse's voice cracked. He hated sounding so pathetic. "You kissed me and you  _liked_  it.  _I_  liked it. We had a fun time together last night, playin' games and makin' out."

"Your choice in romantic partners is appalling." Hanzo gritted, the familiar self loathing that Jesse wanted to quell so badly coming out.

"You can't be serious," Jesse rasped, his lips dry. "Yer tellin' me this was all your plan. Last night. This date. Those kisses and your feelings. You didn't mean a single thing?"

Hanzo's brows furrowed. He was silent. Glanced away briefly, unable to maintain eye contact. It was an answer enough for McCree. Boy, that  _hurt_.

That sick feeling returned. If Jesse didn't leave soon, he feared he'd vomit all over the floor. Panicked and on the verge of a complete mental breakdown, McCree sucked in a gasp. He looked up at Hanzo, finding the archer's eyes no matter how much Hanzo fought it. "I meant everything I said, Hanzo. Every single word."

Jesse saw the moment the archer's thoughts tripped and faltered. A look of weakness broke across that stern face, gaze slipping away from McCree's and to the floor. It was that look that flared hope in Jesse's chest. Hanzo was  _affected_. Affected by the words and their meaning. Didn't deny them. It was a fool's hope of an idiot with a misplaced and untimely crush, but hope nonetheless.

The gunslinger saw the opportunity the moment Hanzo faltered. He knew he could never out duel the other man under normal circumstances. That had been answered for him back in Rhodes. The falter would have been enough for Jesse to whip Peacekeeper out from under his suit jacket and shoot. He could clip Hanzo in the knee and run. He could shoot the archer's hands and take his bow. Or, he could shoot between Hanzo's eyes and never speak to him again. It would solve a lot of his issues. From uncontrollable feelings to feeling completely inadequate.

But McCree didn't take the opportunity. As quickly as Hanzo faltered, he regained his bearings and scowled. Jesse knew there'd be no way he could pull the trigger. He was too stunned. Too dazed. He was also too much of a coward. A useless waste of space.

Before Hanzo could reply, a jarring, blood curdling scream sounded out from downstairs, causing both men to jump in alarm. After it ended, a clunk and commotion like breaking glass; heavy footsteps and more shouts.

The archer's bow lowered as he jerked back. "What is this?"

The hair on the back of Jesse's neck rose. What in the absolute world could be happening  _now?_  Of all the goddamn times? "Downstairs."

Hanzo's gaze flickered from Jesse to the hall. Jesse. Hall. Jesse. Hall.

"Lets go," McCree roused, hand going for Peacekeeper in his suit.

"We are not finished." Hanzo barked, bow raising in warning. "Do not touch your weapon."

Jesse held his hands up again. "We will both die if someone is shootin' up downstairs! What about Gérard? Amélie?" He longed to grasp Peacekeeper, wanting the gun's assured and protective weight. "The mayor?"

Hanzo grunted, scowl on his face darkening. He let out a displeased growl and lowered the bow. Without acknowledging McCree, he turned down the hall and made a beeline for the stairs. Jesse followed, the initial stunned feeling of being caught replaced with the newfound adrenaline of battle.  _You never deserved him anyway. He is too good for you. Too regal and rich and smart. Who on earth would like you?_

Gabriel's voice echoed in his mind.  _You choose the man who shot you, the man who is probably_ using  _you, over the people you've known almost your entire life!_

His boss had never been so right.  _Gabriel, I'm sorry._  Jesse felt his eyes well. This entire night was too much. Everything in this day was far, far too much.  _I'm so goddamn sorry._

Hanzo and Jesse just about flew down the wooden steps, expensive shoes clicking on the floor. As predicted, the entire downstairs was a jumbled mess of people and chaos. Guests were fleeing in every direction. Shimada agents were scattered throughout the main foyer, each engaged in combat with men in familiar jackets. A blast from the past. The emblem of a clear white "O" on the back of each intruder.

Overwatch. The police were here.

But no, it wasn't the sight of the soldiers that made Jesse's heart stop. It was the voice. Bubbly. Energetic. Full of life and happiness, regardless of whatever was happening. He'd hoped to hear it again one day, but that day was certainly not today.

"How's it goin', luvs?"  _Lena_  fucking  _Oxton_  blinked into McCree's vision, caught up between two Shimada agents. Her eyes lit up like fireworks when she saw Jesse. Only she would look so happy while simultaneously fighting off two highly trained assassins with her pistols. "Jesse! Oh my goodness! Long time no see!"

Angela's letter appeared in McCree's mind, in the doctor's elegant accent.  _Lena is on a mission in Saint Denis over the next week. I know the city is large, but you are excellent at tracking people down, and I'm sure you'll be naturally drawn towards one another. Trouble attracts trouble._

Jesse turned to run, to help, to do  _something_  other than wallow and gawk, but his forehead pressed against the barrel of a sniper rifle. He knew this gun. He knew it by heart. He'd shot it before, when he was a kid with no idea how the world worked. Before he'd run away. Before Gabriel. Before Deadlock and Hanzo. Before anything in his life went to shit.

"Yes,  _habibi._ " Another voice, different from Lena's. Smokey. Judgmental. Dark. A voice that Jesse would  _never_  forget. His vision blurred. No  _please._  Stop it.  _Too much._  Not  _her._  Anything but  _her._ The woman he'd looked up to so much, loved so dearly. Her voice was always in his head, an echo of praise and guidance. He hadn't spoken to her in  _twenty years_ , and here she was, speaking to him now. An eternity later, at the mercy of her trigger finger, both older and aged with experience. Ana Amari's words flowed over him like the finest silks. "Long time no see."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- this chapter is nearly 9000 words. send HELP  
> \- Also... SEND HELP for McCree. mayday mayDAY  
> \- As always, thanks for all the comments/support/follows/kudos!!!!! They mean the world to me and greatly fuel my writing! <333


	8. May I... Stand Unshaken?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"May I, stand unshaken? Amidst, amidst a clash of worlds?" - D'Angelo._  
>  content warning: there's some spicy nsfw in the second half of the chapter!

Ana's rifle was cool against Jesse's forehead. He was overheated. Exhausted. Near close to breaking. There was chaos erupting around them but the only thing Jesse could focus on was her. Her gaze; determined, deadly. He had never seen it so cold before.

"Jesse," Ana said, forgoing her usual nickname. It made him shiver.

Jesse found his throat closed off, unable to reply. She looked radiant, a sight both terrifying and exhilarating. She aged like fine wine, her black hair now entirely gray but beautiful all the same. Her face was no longer smooth but still held the elegance of her youth. Aged with wisdom. It was the first time he'd spoken to her in twenty years. The last time she'd heard his voice, he was barely a teenager; dumb and naive (not that he wasn't even when he was in his thirties). He was taller than her now, broader. He'd never realized how small she was.

Ana's eyes narrowed to slits. "What are you doing here?"

So cold. Jesse trembled with nervousness. "Could ask you the same thing."

Her head tilted, eyes narrowed further. "My duty."

Jesse glanced up, watching as Hanzo threw himself into the fray with his agents. There seemed to be an endless supply of policemen, gray Overwatch suits clashing with the Shimada's black. For the first time that night, he saw Zarya, manhandling at least five Overwatch agents by herself a few yards away. An impressive scene. She and Hanzo made an impressive pair.

"Look at me, Jesse," Ana pressed the barrel of the sniper rifle harder into his forehead. "Why are you here?"

Jesse swallowed, hands up in front of him. He hadn't dropped Peacekeeper, but aimed the gun at the ceiling. He couldn't lie to her even if he tried. "A mission."

"With the  _Shimada?_ " Ana hissed. "Do you know who they are?"

 _My friends?_ Jesse thought wistfully, an ache in his chest. He wondered if Zarya knew. He was going to miss her as much as he'd miss Hanzo. "I've been workin' with Hanzo for weeks."

Ana sputtered. The barrel of that rifle dropped down in her amazement. "Hanzo?  _Shimada_  Hanzo? Jesse, you must be joking."

"Boy," Jesse chuckled sadly, "I wish I was."

The taut ' _twing'_  of a bow being drawn. That bow. Jesse looked over to see Hanzo, aiming a silvery arrow at Ana's head. Zarya had thoroughly distracted the Overwatch agents that were threatening him. "Release your weapon, Ana Amari."

Hanzo  _knew_  her? Oh, that's right. Hanzo worked with Overwatch before.

Ana raised a gray eyebrow. "How bold. What if I shoot Jesse?"

The bow flexed. "Your rifle will be on the floor long before you even have a chance to pull the trigger." The archer sneered.

The Egyptian woman snorted in amusement. She looked at McCree. "Do you only work for bold and boastful men, habibi?"

 _Apparently._  He thought with humor. He didn't answer out loud.

Hanzo bared his teeth, fingers flexing. "Yield and call off your agents! You must leave my establishment."

Ana ' _tched'_  with a click of her tongue. "You have no room to make demands."

"You are in  _my_  house, surrounded by  _my_  men. You invade  _my_  party and threaten the safety of  _my_  guests and the officials here!" Hanzo spat. "After I agreed to help you in Valentine!"

"You agreed to help Jack and failed." Ana taunted. Oh boy. Not good. "I am not Jack, and I do not fail."

That got Hanzo. Time went in near slow motion as the archer roared, letting loose the arrow. He knew (or…  _hoped_ ) that Ana wouldn't shoot him, but he had to act  _fast_. Hanzo was the best shot he'd ever known. There was no way that arrow was going to miss.

Peacekeeper flickered in the lights as he drew it, faster than he'd ever before. This was Ana. Hanzo's arrow was going for  _Ana_. He wouldn't let it happen. He'd never be able to live with himself if Hanzo killed her. He was sure Fareeha would never forgive him. He'd lost Hanzo and likely Zarya. He didn't want to lose anymore friends or family to his inability to act or make correct decisions.

The revolver spun as he whipped it around. No use shooting Hanzo; the arrow had already been fired. Instead, he hyper focused on that arrow. Like shooting disks. Birds. Anything. He'd always been so focused on shooting his opponent that he'd never shot their bullet.

Peacekeeper fired, a clean shot. Halfway through it's descent toward the combat medic's head, the arrow split in two. It fell to the floor in wooden shards like confetti.

Just as fast as everything happened, more Overwatch agents sprang into action. Hanzo was so enraged, so focused on Ana, he didn't notice several agents descend on him. The bow clattered to the floor as his hands were restrained by at least three agents. Zarya had impressive strength, but he noticed her posture faulting in exhaustion those few yards away. She gripped her arm and slumped in pain; shot. Several more agents held the Russian woman at gunpoint, just in case.

Hanzo fought against his restraints, a bubbling and boiling rage. This time, directed at Jesse. "You  _saved_  her?!"

"Of course I did!" Jesse shouted, feeling the promise of anger in his emotions. "She is the closest I have to a  _mother!_ "

"You are working with Overwatch?!" Hanzo barked, venomous.

"I ain't workin' for some good for nothing police who don't know shit!" Jesse seethed. "You have no idea what I been through, but I know I'm not gonna let you kill my family in front of me!"

Hanzo seemed astoundingly angry and confused. A first for everything. "Your mother aims a gun at you and you still consider her family?"

"Yeah, we got fucked up lives! But I ain't fuckin' scum that'll sit back and watch you murder everyone that was once close to me!"

Next to McCree, Ana seemed bewildered. "Jesse…"

"Then you are on their side!" Hanzo hissed.

"I'm on no one's fuckin' side!"

"You are letting her agents restrain Aleksandra and I!"

"Enough!" Ana whirled the rifle away from Jesse. She aimed at Hanzo, and that made McCree's heart quake. "Overwatch is here to arrest you, Mister Shimada, for crimes against the counties of New Hanover and Lemoyne."

Hanzo laughed maniacally. "I run Saint Denis and spend my money to keep its economy afloat, and you want to  _arrest_  me?"

Ana's eyes darkened. "The Shimada have been linked to several high and low profile assassinations around these counties. Spend money or not, you cannot kill everyone that poses a threat to your empire. Competition is natural, and we cannot allow a dictator to secure power."

"You are insane if you think I have any want to be dictator over this shitthole of a town." Hanzo stated matter-o-factly.

That seemed to give Ana mild pause. She pursed her lips. "Am I?"

The archer snickered. He looked away toward the floor, a smile on his face. "Arrest me and watch this city crumble, then. Be my guest."

"Hold up," McCree held Peacekeeper up. Aim at Ana or aim at Hanzo? He didn't know which one, and flickered between them both. "No one's arrestin' no one."

"Jesse, do not get in my way." Ana warned.

McCree's arm trembled. "Deadlock is always in your way."

"Then don't be this time. Of all the times, not this one." Her face held a mixture of several emotions. Elation at seeing him again. Fear at his gun. Anger at Hanzo. Weariness. Determination. Irritation. Anything he could think of, Jesse could see.

His pulse quickened. "Why so?"

Her gaze focused solely on Hanzo, refusing to look up at McCree. It fell, a saddened frown marring her beautiful profile. "I don't know if I can make the choice to shoot you or not. Please do not make me come to that decision."

Oh. The anxiety radiating from her form was palpable. He missed her  _so_  much.

Jesse surprised himself by how well he kept his wavering voice calm. His body sure wasn't calm. It trembled and shook. There was no way he'd be able to shoot straight after that arrow. "Let's be adults about this and not kill one another. Can even catch up a lil'."

"There is nothing to catch up about." Ana grumbled.

Despite everything in these past few hours, he still desperately cared for all three of these people. Albeit, in drastically different ways, but still cared. Hanzo had reacted to his sadness over fake feelings; the promise of something truly there, and Jesse still had a hopeless, foolish  _crush_  on him. Zarya was fun to be around and a great character. Ana was his mother, who may have made mistakes in the past, but still held his best interests at heart. Here they were, four individuals from three different organizations, all brought together by fucked up fate.

Jesse had to think fast. Ana had Hanzo at gunpoint, and much like the archer, she never missed. Zarya was held at gunpoint further down the room, bleeding out at an unknown rate. On top of that, both Shimada members were held hostage by more policemen. McCree could see helpless Shimada agents, the ones who were not injured, standing on the outskirts of their circle. They seemed to be awaiting Hanzo's orders, unsure of what to do.

So Jesse said it. It was dumb and stupid. Completely idiotic to put out there, but he knew it would get Ana to put the rifle down. He needed time to get his head in working order, and this would do just the trick.

"Got plenty to catch up about." Jesse flicked Peacekeeper in Hanzo's direction. "He's my boyfriend."

There it was. The reaction. Jesse steadied himself for it.

The rifle dropped. To the  _floor_. Ana's regal features fractured. Pure confusion. Exaggeration. Maybe happiness? Jesse had no idea. All he knew was that Ana's face went through several phases before it settled on disbelief. "Jesse.  _McCree._ "

"So I'm in your way and I'm not gonna move." Jesse aimed Peacekeeper at her in warning. An empty threat. He knew he could never pull the trigger.

Ana continued, the beginnings of panic. She took a few deep breaths. "Do you have any idea who he is?"

"'Course I do. He don't keep it a secret." Jesse braved a brief glance at Hanzo. He saw the flash of confusion on his face before it settled. A warmer, more affectionate look, quickly hidden behind another mask. Hanzo was a good actor. Of course he'd play along. It gave him a way to get out of jail for free.

Ana reeled around, steady gaze boring into Hanzo. "What have you done to him?"

"Now, now," Jesse defended. Of all things, he didn't expect anger. "He's done nuthin' wrong."

Ana seemed bewildered, unsure of what to do or say. "He's a criminal and a murderer."

"And so am I! Arrest me, then."

"He yelled at you!"

Jesse couldn't hold back the amused huff of breath that statement brought. "He does that a lot."

Ana was staring at Jesse now; a far away look that he couldn't place. A few heartbeats passed before she finally found the voice to speak, laden with regret. "Jesse, I cannot just abandon my duty because you like him. Sometimes we must make hard choices."

Of course. Those  _hard_  choices. The ones that ultimately split them apart. "That's all it ever was for you, wasn't it?"

She cringed, understanding the accusation in his voice. "I'm sorry."

"And you wonder why Fareeha and I left."

A spark. The mere mention of Fareeha's name made Ana prickle. "Is Fareeha-?"

"Not here." Jesse answered with a bite, feeling relieved that the other woman was in a much safer place.

Ana looked away, face contorted. For the first time that night, she said absolutely nothing. She didn't need to. Her actions spoke louder than words.

"Eyo!" The bubbly familiar voice from before sounded out. Lena, back from God knows where, sauntered over to their standoff. She seemed unaffected by Jesse's raised gun. "Sorry for taking so long, Ana. Shimada are tough cookies."

Ana blinked up at her.

"Jesse!" Lena chirped. Her excitement didn't stop her from pulling out one of her pistols and aiming it at the gunslinger. " _Ohmygosh-_  the last time I saw you in person, you were like… THIS tall!"

She was always a bundle of bizarre energy. He kept Peacekeeper aimed at Ana, despite Lena's gun leveled at his own head. What a way to see old friends again… at gunpoint. "And you ain't changed one bit, Miss Oxton."

"So is this what they call a wild west standoff?" Lena asked with a hint of amusement, flicking her gun. "Didn't think I'd ever be in one with a true cowboy, let alone you!"

Jesse snickered. "What's it with all ya'll and cowboys?"

"Jesse," Ana interrupted. Her gaze was locked on Peacekeeper now. The lightheartedness brought by Lena's presence quickly vanished. "Lower the gun."

"Not 'till you release Hanzo and Zarya."

Ana sighed. "Habibi-"

"Don't do that. We're past that point, all right." McCree grit. "Look, we've made our choices and lived with them for years. You'll always be my family and I'll never be able to repay you for everything you've done for me. But you left, you made yer choice, and we can't go back from it. I've found a place here, and I'm not gonna let you take it from me. Besides, I owe Hanzo and Zarya  _a lot_. You really don't understand."

Ana hesitated. Her stance was ready and prepared, but her demeanor was misery and defeat. Her next sentence was spoken quietly, and it made Jesse's heart flip.

"This is not the life I wanted for you."

Peacekeeper wavered, trembling. "Well, it's the life I got."

"I made many mistakes long ago, none of them good." Ana grimaced. "They led you down a path I never imagined for you."

"Don't think I turned out too bad with the hand I was dealt." McCree murmured.

Ana took a step; the first attempt to close the distance between them. It felt like a vast and unending canyon. The bridge connecting both sides burned twenty long years ago. "Jesse, I can't go back to Jack empty handed. This attack has been planned for weeks. I am sorry for the past, and I am sorry I led you down this path. If I could go back and change it, I would. I would be a better mother. I would pay attention to what was happening to you. I would make better decisions. I would do it  _all_  differently. But we are here now, and I must do what is required of me."

Jesse gulped. "You can make the right choices now. It doesn't have to be like this."

Another step. Ana raised her hand, as if to touch him. At this point, she actually  _pleaded._  "Jesse,  _lower the gun_."

The sound of another pistol clicking and more commotion interrupted the moment. Jesse veered his head around to see Lena, one gun still aimed at his head, but her other pistol was aimed directly at Hanzo now. The archer was struggling against his restraints, suddenly shouting. Further down, following Hanzo's gaze, he watched as Zarya fell forward, unconscious, hitting the floor with a deafening  _thud._

"Aleksandra!" Hanzo snarled, jerking harshly against his captors. "You fools, you are killing her!"

Jesse's mind whirled, watching as Zarya hit the ground face first. His ears rang, a constant high pitched chime. It hurt. His face flushed, heart beating fast. Please, dear Lord  _no._

The Overwatch agents around Zarya looked at Ana expectantly, all frozen, waiting for an order. Pawns and sheep, knowing that the Shimada were wanted criminals. Dead or alive. Zarya had been shot. The bullet must have pierced something vital. Lena flinched as Zarya hit the floor, pistols lowering. Jesse's gaze darted from Zarya to Ana, waiting for the Egyptian woman's orders. She was a healer. She was a mother. She had to do  _something._  Anything.  _Anything._

Jesse's world crashed as soon as he saw the older woman he so adored.

Ana's gaze was fixed to the floor. On her rifle.

She said  _nothing._

She'd made her choice. Twenty years change a person.

So he made his own decision, right then and there.

Time slowed again. The ringing in his ears grew louder. That familiar rush of sickening magic.  _Only on the people you truly and utterly want dead._  The red skulls lined up neatly in a row, every single Overwatch agent's head perfectly framed. He'd never want Ana, Lena, or Hanzo dead. The skulls never touched them.

He didn't know how many there were. It didn't matter. He made his decision. Ever so slowly, as if trapped in freezing water, Ana and Lena's faces grew surprised. He didn't know if Lena knew what he was doing, or if she knew any of the warning signs, but  _Ana_  knew. Ana knew everything about the Dead-Eye. The Egyptian woman's eyes went wide, and he saw her legs move in that slow motion, her hand raising even higher to try to stop him. She'd never make it in time.

…  _Draw._

The deafening ring of bullets, both real and magic, exploded from Peacekeeper. The red skulls disappeared one by one as each bullet hit it's mark. The agents holding Hanzo first, blood spurting and marking Hanzo's impeccable suit. A tragedy. The agents around Zarya, the ones who wouldn't help a dying woman at  _all_ , crumpled to the ground in their own halos of red. Good riddance.

Time sped up again. The sickness intensified. Ana hadn't reached Jesse, and stopped in her tracks the moment he fired. She stood only a few inches in front of him, eyes wide with disbelief. Were those tears? Was she crying? His vision was so fuzzy after the Dead-Eye, he couldn't make out her features fully. He could barely stand. His arms felt heavy. Useless. His stance faltered. Peacekeeper, warm from use, fell from his hand and thudded on the floor.

"Jesse, no!" Ana's voice quavered. She was frantic now. "Habibi- please! What have you done?!"

"My-" McCree gasped, finding his throat raw and dry. This was the correct decision. The right one. He'd done so many bad things in his life, he owed this much to the people who he'd wronged. Zarya was an innocent bystander. She shouldn't have to suffer for his mistakes. "My duty."

The familiar words from earlier made Ana reel back. His vision swerved as he noticed Lena's pistols rise. Shimada agents jumped into action now. Chaos began erupting again. Jesse felt like he was going to throw up.

"Do not harm him!" Hanzo barked. Through the haze, Jesse noticed the Japanese man hovering over Zarya's unconscious body. He was kneeling next to her, one hand on her back, the other with her gun aimed directly at Lena.  _Hanzo with a gun? How unusual_ , Jesse thought. "You are outnumbered!"

His job was done. He'd done something good. Zarya had a chance to live through this. Now that the Shimada agents outnumbered Overwatch ones, Hanzo was likely not to get arrested. He loved Ana. He loved Lena. He loved them so very  _dearly…_ and he was so  _sorry-_  so sorry that life turned them into enemies. An unfortunate byproduct of too many bad decisions leading up to this one moment.

The Dead-Eye took more out of him than he thought. He coughed, a wet sound, and slumped forward with useless weight. He longed to feel Peacekeeper in his hand, but the gun on the floor felt a lifetime away.

Was this the end? Had he used too much magic? Was this a deal with the Devil? Is this… is this how it felt to die?

He choked, his throat closing off.

 _Jesse- Jesse stay awake!_  It was Ana. His eyes had closed. He was met with a vision behind those black lids. A younger Ana, radiant and beautiful, the mother he had grown to love so much so long ago. A sickening feeling of nostalgia mingled with the post effects of Dead-Eye. He saw Fareeha with her. He could see the three of them now. Shooting at the range. Having tea. Playing cards. Just being  _kids._  Tears stung his eyes, hot like knives.

 _Do not touch him! Ana Amari, step away from my gunslinger!_  Hanzo. Oh  _Hanzo._  Did he say  _my_  gunslinger? He didn't know how to feel about that. Hanzo was such a bizarre man. A product of his upbringing. Of living life so very, very  _alone._  He wished he could help curb that loneliness. Only if the archer wished it. He wanted Hanzo to feel  _wanted_. Cherished. Like he belonged. The Shimada lord was crumbling under the weight of an impressive empire. He wished he could just say sorry.  _Sorry._  For  _everything._  For messing  _everything_  up.

His thoughts grew fuzzy after that, shifting in and out of focus, falling through his fingers like sand. The blackness of his eyelids was inviting. Sleep. An eternity of sleep is what he needed. Crumple to the floor and never wake up. It was all so very inviting. He fought to say something, say anything to ease the panic of the voices around him.  _Jesse! Habibi! Agent McCree! JESSE!_

 _Don't worry about me none._  He wanted to say.  _Just help Zarya. Help her. Leave me be. She's- she's more important than my sorry hide._  Ana would laugh. Hanzo would scoff… maybe even agree. Lena would deny it with a bounce to her step, but determination in her eyes.

The last thing he felt was the world around him spinning. The whoosh of air and his hair falling around his sweaty face.

He collided with cold tile, and knew nothing more.

 

\---

 

Something warm jarred McCree's senses from unconsciousness. He groaned, chest convulsing with a cough. A slow process to waking up. There were soft voices and quiet words, each one sounding as if they were reverberating in the world's largest church.

" _Kore — toaru?"_

" _Kare wa — koroshimashita?"_

" _Shimada — Overwa — dāsu?"_

Overwatch… Zarya... Hanzo… Lena…  _Ana-!_

Jesse jerked awake with a gasp as his thoughts caught up with him. His body felt exhausted, heavy. Cold and overheated at the same time. Damp with uncomfortable sweat. The after affects of Dead-Eye, amplified by his weakened state. He bent at the waist, eyes wide as he looked around and met the faces of three small Japanese women sitting at the side of his bed. One of them held a damp washcloth in her hand.

The three woman startled and stood straight. They all spoke at the same time and bowed. "Gomen'nasai!"

Jesse looked down at himself, chest heaving, relieved to see the burgundy suit from earlier still on, accented by splatters of blood. His hand came up to rest on his head, hair tostled and pounding. His beard felt like it stuck out in several unusual directions. He must look like a complete and utter shit.

He isn't dead.

He didn't  _die._

"Agent McCree?" One lady questioned lightly. He looked back up. It was the one with the washcloth. She was offering it to him with a tentative hand. "Relax now. You have been asleep for several hours."

"Hours?!" Jesse jerked up even more, head threatening to burst as he fought to stand. "What about Overwatch? Shimada?  _Zarya?!_ "

"Agent McCree I highly suggest you stay in bed." The woman held her hands out, not touching him in any way but coaxing him to lean back.

"Hanzo and Ana will kill each other!" Jesse felt his vision suddenly go dizzy again. Man was that Dead-Eye something else. "Ugh- let me up!"

Speak of the devil. "Your Overwatch agents are fine." A dark voice rang out. The last time he'd heard it, the archer had been frantically shouting for his protection.

Hanzo was still speaking to him? A miracle. Jesse pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes, trying to rub the exhaustion from them. "They ain't mine in any way."

Hanzo came through the threshold of the doorway, striding into the room with crossed arms. He was still dressed in his bloody, disheveled suit. "Is Lena Oxton not your friend? Is Ana Amari not your mother?"

Jesse said nothing, that nostalgic feeling from before creeping up. He needed a bucket.

Hanzo must have noticed his discomfort. He turned to the women and waved a hand. "You may leave. I will send for more orders later."

"Shimada-san. McCree-san." They bowed with respect before quickly making their way out the door.

Jesse and Hanzo sat in silence for a few moments after the maids left. What to say? There were so many things to say. Where to start? Jesse had so much to atone for. To apologize for. Beg Hanzo for his forgiveness. Hope and pray that Zarya was still alive. Instead of saying any of that, though,, the only words that Jesse's dumb and stupid brain could muster up were; "you got a bizarre way of doin' business, Mister Shimada."

Hanzo tilted his head. "How is that?"

Jesse let out a sad laugh. "Work with Overwatch, then be their enemy. You agreed to work with me, knowing what I was plainnin' on doin'. Then you got me here, sittin' in this room cared for by your maids. It would have been easier to just kill me when I was out." He paused, voice low. "Thought you wanted me dead."

"If I wanted you dead, you would have been dead weeks ago."

There was a flat silence. So much unspoken between them. Both of them were filthy and in desperate need for new clothes. The adrenaline from earlier had faded away, leaving them both looking so old and exhausted.

"Is Zarya-?"

"Aleksandra is fine." Hanzo interrupted, knowing the question. "The bullet wound was a bit severe, but nothing we could not handle. The lack of blood pressure caused her to faint."

A weight lifted from Jesse's shoulders. So very glad. "What about Overwatch? Ana and Lena-"

"Are gone, and unharmed." Hanzo interrupted yet again, a twinge of irritation in his voice. "They recognized their defeat after you left us. Your Dead-Eye really did them in."

Despite the sick feeling in his stomach, Jesse grinned. If he had his hat on, he'd tip it. He made the motion anyway. "Happy to help. But-"

"Why?"

Hanzo's single word held so much meaning behind it. Why?  _Why_  had Jesse helped the man he was planning on robbing?  _Why_  did he save his life and the life of his agent?  _Why_  did Jesse care for him?  _Why_  would he defy his old mother figure for a Japanese crime lord and a Russian woman? Why?

Why why  _why?_

Jesse made to stand from the bed. He grimaced as pain shot through him. He needed to stand for this. He needed to atone on his feet. Hanzo deserved at least that much. He looked down at the man, finding a curious yet worried gaze stare back at him. For the first time, the archer looked so very small.

Hanzo uncrossed his hands, reaching forward hesitantly. "Agent McCree, there is no need to stand-"

"I'm sorry." Jesse said, nothing more than a mere whisper. For a moment, he didn't even know if the archer heard him.

He did. Hanzo looked up, brows furrowed in their familiar scowl. "Why for?"

"I did you wrong. I planned to rob you. I probably led Overwatch right to you." McCree bit his lip. "I almost murdered you."

Hanzo's gaze flickered with a twinge of heat. "You did." He stated, as if it was the simplest concept in the whole damn world.

"I don't understand," Jesse questioned softly. "Why didn't you kill me?"

"I wanted to. At first." Hanzo's swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing. "It would have made things much simpler."

His answer just led to more confusion. Jesse saw the depth in Hanzo's eyes, felt the underlying meaning of his words. Mere hours ago, Hanzo was yelling at him. For multiple reasons. Hanzo held him at gunpoint (bow… point?). Hanzo threatened him. Hanzo berated him. Lied to him. They lied to one another. Was there any coming back from that?

"Then why haven't you killed me now?"

A pause. Jesse swore Hanzo could hear his heartbeat. They weren't exactly standing very far apart. It felt like it was trying to break free from the cage of his chest.

They stood so close, tattered, bloody, disheveled. None of it seemed to matter, though. Their breaths mingled. Jesse wanted so desperately to reach forward and touch. He didn't deserve it. Despite any signs Hanzo had given in the past, he still didn't know if he was wanted, flaws and all. Who would love him? He may be a pretty face, but the personality behind it suffered. He'd made so many dumb, stupid decisions. How could Hanzo forgive any of it? How could he be lucky enough to stay with the man he so horribly wronged?

The archer's answer was a revelation. There was no need for words. The heat and tension were palpable. Hanzo leaned forward, and unlike last time- the first time they kissed (fake and laden with lies)- he leaned in slowly with lowered lids. A real kiss. Their first  _real_  kiss. No more lies holding a barrier between them. Bared feelings. Guilt. Sorrow. Hope. The promise of happiness. A metallic and addicting taste. A taste so purely and uniquely  _Hanzo_.

Jesse couldn't help himself. He was so caught up in grief and overwhelming sadness, the thought of having even a little reprieve made his heart soar. He didn't deserve it one  _bit._  Gabriel was going to hate him even more. The gang was likely going to be so disappointed. Hell… Overwatch was probably going to hunt Deadlock with even more intent now. His life was so fucked up. He needed something.  _Anything-_  and here Hanzo was, right in front of him, lips warm and inviting. They needed to talk so very desperately, to determine just what the fuck was going on between them, but that was one of the furthest thoughts from McCree's mind right now. He was living in the present, focused on the visceral feeling of the man he liked so much on his lips.

The first kiss was comforting, more of a press of soft lips and gentle sighs. After it ended, another followed. Then again. Again and again, over and over, each more insistent and forceful than the last. An urgency took over their actions. Hanzo took the initiative, and Jesse let him, too tired and weary to complain. He'd take anything he was given.

Jesse let out a whimper, unable to contain the pure feelings practically pouring out of him. His hands found purchase at Hanzo's sides and moved along with each tilt of their heads or shuffle of feet. Before he knew it, he'd been crowded into a corner, Hanzo's weight trapping him against the elaborate wallpaper in a cocoon of warmth and affection.

"Hanzo-" Jesse finally managed against his lips, hands trembling as he fidgeted with the archer's bloodied suit. So thankful it wasn't his. They were a  _mess._  His mind still felt dizzy and his body heavy.

"Be quiet." Hanzo chided, pulling away only briefly before claiming his mouth again.

Jesse managed to pull his mouth away, an impressive feat in itself since he wanted to kiss the man in front of him for the rest of his sorry life. He mourned the loss of Hanzo's lips for only a few moments. The archer immediately began mouthing at the juncture where McCree's neck and shoulder met. He groaned. "Honey, I can barely stand."

That gave Hanzo pause. The lips on his neck stilled but didn't pull back. Jesse could feel them move tauntingly against his skin as Hanzo spoke. "Do you wish for me to stop?"

" _God,_  no," Jesse answered hastily, hands tightening on Hanzo's waist. "Can we- can we just move a bit?"

Jesse felt Hanzo chuckle, his sides convulsing with a huff of breath. "What if I do not want to move?"

"Then yer about to have a gunslinger whose legs don't work one bit on yer hands."

Hanzo huffed another laugh, dark and throaty. His mouth lifted to McCree's ear. Jesse shivered at the feeling. "What if that is my intent?"

A surge of overwhelming lust controlled Jesse's actions after that. He grunted, head whipping to the side. A hand let go of Hanzo's waist and grabbed his bearded chin, plastering their lips together. Hanzo seemed momentarily shocked, but his body vibrated with excitement. Jesse used that stun and his larger frame to twist them towards the bed. Lips never separating, he fell backwards as soon as his knees hit the edge of the mattress. Plush and inviting. Smooth and silky. With excellent company, of course. A bed never felt so good before.

"Jesse," Hanzo breathed as McCree slid them up to the pillows. The archer crowded over him, knees on either side of his hips, straddling, and  _goddamn_  even his dirtiest fantasies could never accurately portray the way Hanzo was looking at him right now. "Jesse, I-"

"You don't gotta ask anymore," Jesse interrupted with a grunt. His hands moved up, fingers deftly undoing the knot holding Hanzo's hair up. His hair was already coming undone anyway, stray wisps clinging to his face. The inky strands fell in a halo around them as he tossed the tie away and buried his fingers in the expanse of black. Heavenly. "I've been yours in more ways than one for weeks."

Hanzo hesitated, arms visibly trembling. "This is unideal. After everything that has just happened… I want you to want me as more than an order or demand."

"God, honey, it's okay. I want you. Right now." Jesse tightened his grip, suddenly frightful that Hanzo would pull away. He tugged his hair, trying to pull him down for another kiss. " _Please._ "

He must have conveyed his message quite well, because Hanzo wasted no time after his declaration. He maneuvered himself in between McCree's knees and pressed his weight down. An urgency followed them as their lips met again, wet and greedy. The warmth was still there, but a hazy filter of uncontrollable lust settled over the mood. Jesse's mind quickly dissolved and his eyes closed, the world thoroughly consumed by the man above him and the tension rapidly pooling in his stomach.

Jesse knew he wouldn't last long, and  _deargod-_  Hanzo began the slow grind of their hips. It was delicious friction, and Jesse moaned loudly as Hanzo set the rhythm.

"Jesus  _Christ-_ " Jesse groaned out, hands moving from Hanzo's hair to grapple along his broad back. At a particularly forceful thrust, Jesse gripped so hard he was sure his fingers left bruises. "Dear  _Lord-_ "

Hanzo's rhythm didn't falter, but Jesse's eyes opened when he heard the man above him chuckle. "You are astoundingly loud."

"'msorry," Jesse managed, drawing his knees up around the other man. His toes curled. He felt mirth bubble up amongst all the lust. "Maybe you should shut me right up, then."

And boy did he. Hanzo growled, mouth latching onto Jesse's with merciless purpose. They stayed like that for what felt like a blissful eternity, rutting and kissing, lost in the cloudy would of pleasure they created for themselves. Away from the chaos around them. Ana. Jack. Gabriel. Overwatch. Deadlock. Shimada. All a distant memory, unable to hurt them.

Jesse moved his hands from Hanzo's back, reaching down to the button of the archer's pants, trying to make his intent clear. He keened along Hanzo's lips. "I want… honey, I'm not- I'm not gonna last much longer."

"Like this." Hanzo grit out, far more gone than Jesse had anticipated, being the stoic and disciplined man he was. He answered McCree's plea by reaching for the gunslinger's belt. The black leather came undone quickly under his skilled fingers, and the pressure relief from undoing his pants was astronomical.

Jesse's hands shook so much he had trouble with Hanzo's belt and buttons. He whined, a sound thoroughly unlike himself, but his mouth drooled at the thought of finally being able to touch he archer. He was already so close. They both were, hinted by Hanzo's face and the increasingly hot cut off moans he was trying to stifle.

Hanzo growled again, frustrated at the pause, and helped Jesse undo the belt and buttons. They freed themselves from the confines of their pants and  _christ almighty-_  Hanzo resumed the previous rhythms he'd set.

Jesse was done for. There was a literal angel above him, grinding their hips together, cocks slipping against one another. "Oh  _god,_ don't stop,  _please-_  I'm right there. Holy  _shit-_ "

Hanzo's reply rang in his ears, just as stunted as dazed as he was. "I have you."

Jesse never wanted this to end. He almost bucked Hanzo off, wanting to pause a moment so they could prolong the experience, but the archer had other plans. Hanzo gripped Jesse's arms, pulling his hands away from his back so he could thread them together. He interlaced their fingers and pressed them into the pillow on either side of McCree's head, pinning him in place.

Hanzo painted a radiant picture as Jesse looked up, hair haloed around them, blocking out the rest of the world. They were still dressed in their dirty suits, bodies hidden from one another, but the archer's muscles still rippled with promising strength under the jacket. A literal angel. Jesse could never match up to that physique. The dirtiest fantasy he could never have imagined. Nothing could compare to the real life experience of having  _Hanzo Shimada_  above him, pinning him to the bed, bodies sliding together and hips grinding their open pants together. At this point, they were barely even kissing anymore; just the huff of uneven gasps into one another as their lips stayed together.

Completely enamored at the sight above him, unable to speak, Jesse simply stared, his peak coming faster than expected. It was right there, at the tip of his tongue. One more push. One last thrust. He teetered on the edge of orgasm, tightening his fingers on Hanzo's. So close. Please please  _please-_

The last push. The final straw. Hanzo let out a low moan, one of the  _hottest_  sounds that Jesse had ever heard in his entire life, and he  _lost it._  His already fuzzy vision grew white, grip near painful as he came, legs squeezing. He gasped Hanzo's name (or maybe it was just babble… he'd never know), and choked as he released.

Slowly, Jesse's vision returned, clearer than before. His grip of Hanzo's hands stayed firm as the archer continued his thrusts. He was overstimulated and whimpered, but nothing on this planet would stop him from observing Hanzo's regal face shatter as the man above him climaxed soon after. The most beautiful sight Jesse'd ever seen. He hoped so badly that this wasn't a one time thing.

Hanzo collapsed forward, head thumping on McCree's chest as he heaved giant breaths. Jesse heaved along, sated. The initial rush of adrenaline gone, replaced by a warm feeling of complete content. A feeling Jesse hadn't felt in a very long time. He'd come close recently. The party Deadlock had after their successful bank robbery. His downtime with Genji, drinking in Valentine. Cards with Hana and Lúcio, listening to their bubbly personalities. None of it compared to the moment right now.

They said nothing as they came down from their highs. Hanzo remained pillowed on Jesse's chest as his breath evened and slowed. They were a complete and utter mess. Suits tattered. Blood stained. Dirty, sweaty, and quickly drying from their sudden passion, but he paid it little mind. The clothes were ruined anyway.

Sitting there in the afterglow, Jesse knew the proper thing to do would be to take a bath and get clean, but he was so unbelievably exhausted. His eyelids were heavy and difficult to keep open. He gazed down at Hanzo after a long while of comfortable silence, finding that the other man had already succumbed to sleep. He hadn't realized Hanzo was as tired as he was. Dark circles under his eyes marred his handsome face, but the archer looked at peace, a sight so rarely granted. His features softened, the hard lines of his cheeks and brows barely visible. So serene. Content. Comfortable. Beautiful. So Jesse laid there, closing his own eyes. A hand came up to rest on Hanzo's head, stroking his black hair. The promise of sleep was around the corner, the darkness a welcome retreat.

They had so much to talk about. So much to do. So much to say. Jesse didn't even know where he'd start, but for the first time in a long, long while, he felt strong enough to face the unknown. Their futures were perilous. Their problems were innumerable. Two men, brought together by circumstance and fate, basking in the afterglow of passion and affection that both were denied for so long.

There was no telling where their relationship would go. There was no telling where their future would lead them. There was only the moment; the here and now. A quiet room after so many overwhelming feelings. Guilt. Sorrow. Love. Family. Jesse had no idea what was right and what was wrong, and the future was monstrously intimidating, but none of it mattered. He and Hanzo had lived their lives in cages, pawns and puppets to much larger plans. But here, in the warmth of their room, Hanzo snoozing on Jesse's chest as the gunslinger raked his hands through the archer's long hair, falling asleep to the sound of even breathing, Jesse felt  _happy_. He'd made the  _right_  decision. Whatever the future held, he hoped and prayed that perhaps he and Hanzo would overcome it, as long as they faced it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I am SO sorry this took so long to get out. I gotta be honest, I began burning myself out real fast with that weekly update schedule. I needed time to relax and unwind from the harsh 1,000+ words a night. Despite the wait, I hope it's okay! I'm finally pleased with what I've written.  
> \- Chapter updates will come roughly every 2 weeks now! To space out and keep myself from burning out so fast.  
> \- This chapter was also written with Red Dead Redemption 2's ["May I? Stand Unshaken."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lm-WEZRpWuA)  
> \- ENJOY. Thanks for the favs, kudos, and ALL the comments!!! you guys make me SO HAPPY!!! <33333


	9. A Quiet Time

_A dozen soldiers dashed across the compound, the flash of at least a dozen white, gleaming 'O' emblems burning an image in his brain forever._

_"Attention!" A shout over the courtyard."The prisoner is loose! I repeat, Jesse McCree is out of his room and armed! All security on maximum alert! Find the boy!"_

_McCree stumbled after Gabriel, slinking along outside the walls, one hand on his hat and the other clutching his new gun. Fareeha's hand gripped his jacket, a shiny pistol in the other._

_"Hurry." Gabriel slid behind a tall wall, pulling the two children to a stop. "We have to make it across before we're in the clear. Heads low."_

_Easy for him to day. Gabe was sly and stealthy. Jesse was convinced the man in black could do anything._

_A gunshot rang out, bullet ricocheting by McCree's ear. A sniper from the far side. Missed by near inches._

_"Sites on the target!" An agent._

_More unfamiliar voices. "Jesus! Don't kill him!"_

_Gabriel whipped out a gun from the assortment on his belt. Bang. Bang. Snipers dead. Oh god- they're dead. Gabriel just killed two more Overwatch agents without a second thought. He'd been killing them all evening. Oh God. Oh no. "Go now!"_

_Jesse heard the order in the midst of his rising panic. Gabriel pushed him, shouting some nonsense, probably about not freaking the fuck out. They ran. He didn't think he'd ever run this fast before. Life or death. No looking back. His old life was gone._

_They veered around a wall, the far gate in sight. Home stretch. Almost there. Freedom at his fingertips. The commotion of agents behind them. They're not dead… right? Gabriel didn't kill them. Sleeping. In denial. Oh God. How many were dead? It was his fault. Maybe-_

_"Soldier." That gruff voice Jesse had heard mere hours before. No no no no no._

_Gabriel growled, placing himself between Jack and the kids. A father-bear protective of his children. A shotgun aimed directly at the Overwatch commander._

_"You have ten seconds to put the gun down and hand over the children." Jack pointed his rifle square between Gabe's eyes._

_"You can take them when I'm dead. Of old age." Gabriel glowered._

_"Ten."_

_"Habibi, listen to us," Ana slunk out from behind the gate, tired and disheveled. She aimed her rifle at Gabriel as well. Jesse saw her eyes widen as they settled on her daughter. "Ha-Habibti?"_

_"Don't say anything." Gabriel's other hand shot out to block the kids. "Nothing at all."_

_"Nine." Jack continued, aim never wavering._

_Ana looked pained. "Fareeha, what are you doing?"_

_Fareeha's mouth opened. Gabriel cut her off. "They're coming with me and there is nothing you can do or say to make me change my mind."_

_"Eight."_

_"Holy shit, Jack," Gabriel spat, "stop the dumbass counting."_

_Jesse saw Ana's face morph into the first real, genuine anger he'd seen grace her elegant features. "You cannot just take my children and leave. They're not property you can take."_

_"Joke's on you. They both agreed to this, I just gave them the option. I'm not making then do anything they don't want."_

_"Seven."_

_What happened at zero? Would Jack shoot Gabriel? Oh no._

_Ana's face was dark. She looked a them. "Is this true?"_

_"Yes." Jesse blurted._

_"I told you not to speak!" Gabriel snapped._

_"I wanna tell the truth!"_

_"Six."_

_Ana's face morphed to disbelief. "Jesse… Fareeha…?"_

_"I'm miserable here and you ain’t even doing anything. You used to take us out on the ranges. Teach me how to shoot. Until I got good at it. Real good. Then you stopped, like I did something wrong…"_

_The older women's gun lowered. She seemed to falter. "Habibi, I would. I would move the moon for you and Fareeha. I would. I would. Believe me," She paused, strained, "but I can't."_

_Gabriel tensed. His gun flickered to her. "Bullshit! You just follow Jack's orders 'cause you're a good little soldier. You have no room for regrets after leaving these children in isolation."_

_"Five."_

_"Shut the fuck up, Jack." Gabe grunted._

_Ana dropped the barrel of her rifle to the ground. “Children, I am so sorry. I am truly, utterly, hopelessly sorry. But this is the wrong path. Gabriel is not setting a proper example-”_

_“- are you serious, right now?” Gabriel interrupted. “_ I’m _the one not setting a proper example? I’m the only one who even remotely cares for them as children- as_ people _\- in this God forsaken jailhouse.”_

_“Killing Overwatch agents sets a proper example? Stealing things and breaking out, that is considered proper to you?” Ana glared. “Those people had families. Children of their own. Do you have no sympathy for them, as well? Or only for yourself and your own interests?”_

_Jesse felt more panic rise in his throat, closing it off. He was gonna throw up. No doubt. Fareeha pressed close to him._

_Gabriel was bewildered. His eyes went wide, mouth agape. Exasperated. Disbelieving. Nothing on earth was probably more angry than Gabriel Reyes in that exact moment._

_“I’ve grown tired of this useless argument,” Jack finally spoke words other than a number. “Gabriel, you have seconds to put down that gun before I shoot you dead, like you did your comrades.”_

_Gabriel’s gun whirled back to Jack. “They weren’t my comrades. They were useless sheep allowing innocent children to suffer.”_

_“I’m not joking.”_

_“Do it. I dare you.”_

_“Four.”_

_The new revolver in Jesse’s hand trembled. Cold and clammy. Stuffy and overheating. Nauseous. The most important people in his life were about to kill each other… over him._

_“I call your bluff, commander.” Gabriel sneered. “You won’t do it in front of the kids.”_

_“Three.”_

_“Stop this nonsense.” Ana placed a hand on Jack’s arm. “Fareeha and Jesse could-”_

_“Two.”_

_Gabriel whispered, only loud enough for the children to hear. “Don’t be afraid.”_

_“One.”_

_Ana shouted; “Jack, no!”_

_A crack. A ringing. The spark of a gun. It echoed in the courtyard, the commotion of countless agents behind them a distant memory. One gun. No one else’s went off. The bullet landed with a sickening wet noise._

_The revolver in Jesse’s hand smoked._

_The very first time he’d shot it. The very first bullet he’d put in a man._

_The rifle in Jack’s hands clanked to the floor. It’s owner fell to one knee, clutching his right arm with a distressed shout._

_Ana fell down with her commander, unharmed but alarmed. “Jack?” Her eyes went from the bullet wound to Jesse and his gun. His smoking gun. “... Jesse.”_

_Jesse was hyperventilating now. He would have collapsed if Gabriel didn’t pull him. He barely registered where he was going, only following with hazed vision. He heard Ana shout after them. He heard the clink of a gate. Of Gabriel’s praises: ‘That was amazing, mijo. You did it! The perfect distraction. I’m so proud of you.’_

_Fareeha squeezed his hand._

 

\---

 

Jesse awoke with a racing heart and the harsh sting of morning sunlight.

_Where…?_

The dream was so vivid, it took him a minute to realize he was thirty-six again.

He rubbed his eyes, groaning as the curtains in the window fluttered in the breeze. It was bright outside, that’s for sure. It had to be well into the morning. How long had he slept?

He grimaced as he sat up. Sore. Every muscle in his body ached. Some muscles he didn’t even know he had. His hair felt greasy and strewn about, stuck in clumps and jutting in weird directions. His beard was plastered to his sweaty face. He still wore his burgundy suit, tattered and bloodied. A complete and utter nightmare. He was a real catch.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, mentally psyching himself up to rise. His vision cleared. Bright, elaborate, _beautiful_ wallpaper surrounded him. The bed, despite it’s ragged appearance from use, was adorned in fine silks and extremely comfortable. The Shimada family crest adorned some decorations. Dragons. Ah, he was still in Shimada mansion. He hadn't had time to appreciate the room last night.

Oh... that’s right. Overwatch. Ana. Lena. They came. They came here. Jesse _saw_ them… he saw _Ana_ . Those Shimada maids tending to him. Mayor Winston. Gérard and Amélie… ah… he and Hanzo last night… uh… _yeah_. That’s a thing that sure happened. Jesse flushed and rubbed his face.

They’d fallen asleep together. The other side of the bed was cold, alerting him the Shimada lord was long gone. He stood and stretched his back out, grunting as it cracked and popped with middle age. Then a singular thought hit him like a ton of bricks:

Zarya.

His heart skipped a beat. _Zarya._ He launched off the bed, nearly crashing into an elaborate looking end-table with a panicked cough. Was she okay? Oh God, was she dead? Was it all his fault? It was all his fault. All of this was all his _goddamn fault._

Out of the corner of his eye, across the way, he spotted something shining in the sunlight. A neatly folded white note and something silky on a far table. He dashed for it. It had immaculate penmanship. Better than Angela’s. It was writing he’d seen before, on that dreaded note from the study.

  * __Good morning. If you ask, a maid or servant may draw a bath for you. Trust me, you need it. I am downstairs sorting out the mess of last night. The robe is for you. Zarya is also well. Come find us when you are finished.__



Sheer relief flooded Jesse’s chest. He picked up the silk. A robe? He thought his suit was damn fine. He’d never felt something more luxurious.

The bath was heavenly. The robes were heavenly. The room wad burgundy and gold and the most comfortable place Jesse had ever been. He’d never felt so clean and so rested in his life, despite the harsh reality of last night. Everything that happened. The horrid dream, a memory. His muscles ached and throbbed, the blood and commotion and the horror of last night ingrained in his mind. At least Hanzo and Zarya were here. Alive. Not all unharmed, but alive nonetheless.

Jesse made his way down the elegant staircase, crossing paths briefly with some frantic maids and other agents. He paid them little mind. Hanzo and Zarya. Hanzo and Zarya. Find Hanzo and Zarya. He was stuck with a bubble of nervousness at the mere thought of seeing Hanzo. Was last night a one time thing? Did Hanzo just need release after a near death encounter? It was all very sudden. Well, he’d known Hanzo for weeks now. Were weeks enough? How long had it really been. A couple months? He couldn’t remember. Ugh. There was no reason for him to feel like this; giddy and jumping like a newfound schoolboy. He was thirty-six, right? This was real life?

The downstairs was a mess, a combined explosive mixture of party and battle. There was blood on the floor. Blood on the walls. Oh Lord, he’d put half the blood there. His head pounded, an unusual side effect of Dead-Eye. It rang. He’d killed so many people. These were Overwatch agents. Ana echoed in his mind: _Those people had families. Children of their own. Do you have no sympathy for them, as well? Or only for yourself and your own interests?_

He found the Shimada lord in the main foyer down the hall, dressed in his usual attire and freshly washed. His eyebrows were drawn in a deep scowl as he spoke to his agents. Next to him - thank goodness - was Zarya, a grin on her face and her arm in a sling.

She saw him first. Her eyes darted up at the first sign of movement. Was she mad? Did she know? Was he still welcome? Did she hate him? He and Hanzo hadn’t really talked out their… predicament. Was he going to be thrown out? Even with one working arm, he was positive the Russian woman could crush him.

Instead, she kept grinning. She clapped a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, making the archer jump, and spoke so joyfully, it was almost like the party never happened. “Look who has arisen from his beauty sleep!"

McCree’s stomach flipped when Hanzo’s gaze shot from Zarya to him. He prepared for judgement. A scolding. An order to escort him out. Maybe even kill him on the spot. The Shimada lord had interesting ways of doing business. Maybe last night meant nothing, just as it did before.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said quietly. Not a scolding… a fragile tone. _Meaning._

He needed to approach this situation delicately. He gave a two fingered salute and a wink. “Howdy, darlin’.”

Hanzo was in front of him in seconds, genuine _worry_ crossing his tired face. “Are you injured? Should I send an agent for a doctor? Do you feel stable? Should I-“

_Worry?_ After everything? Jesse felt his heart warm with fondness. He didn't deserve it. “Ima stop ya right here. I'm doin' just fine," he chuckled before playfully adding, "thanks to you." That was dumb, Jesse. No more dumb jokes.

A flustered red appeared on Hanzo's features. He brought a hand up to cover his face and groaned. 

Zarya barked out a laugh. "How cute. Should I arrange a permanent room for Agent McCree?"

Jesse smiled, feeling lighter. He placed a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder as the archer turned away, reluctant to lose the chance to finally talk about this. Whatever _they_ were. The touch burned, but Hanzo didn’t flinch away, and boy if that didn’t churn McCree's stomach up even more. “Ha-ha, little lady. How're you?”

She shrugged, making an effort to wiggle her injured arm. "I'm as good as I can be. Sir Shimada, may I speak freely to Jesse?”

McCree felt Hanzo’s shoulder tense. A bad sign. The smile on Jesse’s face faded. Did Zarya know? She had to know. Oh God, she had to know. Was this shovel talk? Was she gonna kill him? Oh God. He thought he was ready for this. Clearly he wasn't. A coward.

Hanzo stepped aside warily as Zarya came forward. Jesse tried his hardest not to flinch. She was very nearly twice his size.

Everything moved very fast after that. He didn’t know Zarya had reflexes as quick as she did, but boy howdy, she moved so fast he barely had time to prepare. Her large first came up and careened into his face. Not too hard as to cause noticeable damage, but hard enough to get the point across. She was obviously holding back for his sake. It still hurt.

“That,” Zarya said, flexing her wrist as Jesse reeled, “is for lying to us.”

He grit his teeth. Bit his tongue. He shoulda known better to think he could keep his friends after pulling a stunt like that. “I’m sorry.” What else could he say?

Jesse was, however, even more unprepared for the same hand that punched him to clasp onto his shoulder and pull. Zarya wrapped her arm around and pulled him into a side hug.

“This,” She smirked, hand moving to ruffle his hair, “is for saving my life. And, I’ll add, Sir Shinada’s as well.”

Emotional whiplash was a real feeling. Stunned, Jesse froze and said nothing. His brain could barely comprehend that Zarya and Hanzo were even speaking to him, let alone let him stay in their house in lavish silk robes. He should be dead.

Sensing the tension, Zarya squeezed his shoulder. Jesse mustered up enough courage to look at her. It was the first time he’d studied her fully since before the party. She seemed frayed but genuine. He really didn't deserve it. He deserved every ass whoopin’ he got.

“Thanks.” Jesse said dumbly.

Her face fell. “Thanks? But I just thanked you-”

“You’re welcome.”

She looked disappointed. “Now that’s just too formal sounding, isn’t it?” She paused before pulling back. “Okay, I’ll just state it clearly. You are forgiven, McCree. I’m hurt you didn't tell me what was going on, even though I understand why you didn’t. Sir Shimada has given me clear instructions to welcome you as an esteemed guest, and you've been a good friend for awhile now. I think no differently of you.”

He didn't deserve _one single fucking bit_ of sympathy. “You Shimada folk have weird ways of handling all the bad shit y’all attract.”

“If it is any consolation,” Zarya flicked her head in Hanzo’s direction, smiling. “I was promptly informed this morning that if I threatened to kill you or drive you out in any way, I would be, how’d he put it… ‘flayed alive by magic dragons,’ and I believe it. So, you’re in luck today.”

“Fantastic.” Jesse mumbled.

Zarya raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, but Hanzo cut in.

“Hit him again and maybe the magic dragons will still come.”

“Hey now,” Jesse said before Zarya’s inevitable apology, “I’m not gonna blame her for bein’ protective. It ain’t her fault I’m a scumbag.”

Hanzo huffed. “You are not-”

“Let’s just agree to disagree, yeah?”

“Absolutely not-”

“Yer real cute when you scowl like that.”

Embarrassing Hanzo was the easiest way to shut him up. The smaller man’s mouth clamped closed, expression red but eyes wildly defiant. Jesse took the moment to openly stare. The Shimada lord looked, perhaps for the first time in his life, significantly unkempt. He’d pulled his hair back as usual, but hasty with several flyaways. He was properly dressed in a suit vest and dress pants, but those too seemed hastily put together as well. Still, despite being rough around the edges, McCree couldn’t deny the archer looked _gorgeous_. Maybe even more so in this state. Freer and loose. Less frown lines.

Zarya had to have _some_ inclination by now, and he wasn’t too keen on keeping them a secret anyway. If they were a thing. Yeah. The giant elephant in the room. Were they a thing? Was this normal? This is nothing like how any previous fling started out in Jesse’s past. Was it even healthy? He sure didn’t know. Nothing in his life was ever healthy.

Jesse's internal need to cover up anything with a horrible sense of humor burst out. "Besides, I wanna meet those dragons, so it'd be great if Zarya'd beat me up for them."

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, the flush on his cheeks fading.

Zarya chuckled, boisterous and cheerful. She strode forward and raised her arm, sending warning signals throughout Jesse’s chest despite the fact he knew she wasn’t going to hit him. She threw it around his shoulder and pulled him close, following suit with Hanzo in the crook of her other arm. “How adorable! A gunslinger and a crime lord, opening up to one another! I shall have to find a camera to document this moment. And Sir Shimada… smiling! A real smile. We need proof of this, Jesse. A true miracle. You've accomplished the impossible."

Hanzo looked thoroughly embarrassed by now. He tried (unsuccessfully) to slink out of her grip. “Aleksandra!”

The perfect opportunity. The perfect moment to relay his feelings. “Well, I hope to make more of those smiles come out in the future for a long time to come, then."

There it is. His cards (and his heart) on the table. He didn’t exactly hear what Zarya said next (probably another playful quip). Jesse zeroed his focus on Hanzo and Hanzo alone.

The archer, despite being beat red and struggling in his bodyguard’s grip, offered Jesse a _smile._ “I hope so, as well.”

It was Jesse’s turn to flush. A hopeful laugh burst from him. “We should talk, sweetheart.”

Hanzo stopped struggling in Zarya’s grip. He slumped forward, but looked happier than Jesse had ever seen him. More sentimental. It made him look years younger. He was beautiful.

“Indeed we should.”

.

Their talk was put off, but they worked together with newfound energy and tenderness. Shimada mansion was thoroughly turned over from the previous night's mayhem, so they set out on righting it. Most of the more horrific mess was cleaned overnight, sparing Jesse the aftermath of what he’d done to save them. He wasn't sure his fragile mental state could handle it. Hanzo’s presence might be soothing, but the combined nausea of his dream (still a vivid memory) and the murders of last night were hard to quell.

The ever present, nagging feeling in the back of Jesse’s head became too much to keep to himself. Hanzo brushed past him, sending orders to a servant with a box of ruined items. The warmth elicited a shiver.

“I’m gonna die.”

Hanzo’s head snapped up, a peculiar expression on his face. “What?”

“Reyes is gonna kill me and I dunno what I’m gonna do.”

Hanzo seemed off-put. “Nonsense. You are his family.”

If only he had Hanzo’s ignorance. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“I know any time you’ve spoken about him, even if you did not say his name, it was always with fondness and love.”

Fondness and love. Jesse snickered. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s the closest I’ve ever had to a real dad. He’s the only one that ever really believed in me. At least… believed in me and helped me succeed. He saved my hide. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without everything he’s done. But lately, he’s been… off.” He shrugged. “It started after Blackwater."

"What has he done to worry you?"

What indeed? "I dunno. He's been hyper focused on money. It's all he cares about. In Blackwater we lost a few folk. Sure, he was sad about it, but all of like, three seconds. Then in Valentine; that bank robbery. Overwatch was there. Gabe scouted the town before we did the heist and overlooked Overwatch because he was too starry-eyed over a couple thousand bucks. Then you shot Lúcio's horse out from under him. Damn near hurt him up bad. Gabriel didn't care. He just wanted the money. When I called him out on it, he punched me."

Hanzo’s brow furrowed. "I apologize. I was acting on behalf of my client."

"S'alright, sweetpea. He ain't hurt and it's all water under the bridge.” Jesse paused, a thought bubbling to the surface, pleasant. “I’d like to introduce you to Lúcio. Actually, there's a few people in Deadlock I'd love you to meet."

"Would Gabriel be one of them?"

Jesse tensed. Should he? "I… I'm not sure. He has always been a strong leader. I've looked up to him for nearly thirty years. It's hard to see him so paranoid and so… unlike himself. You ever seen anyone go off the deep end?"

Hanzo took a moment to mull over the question. Perhaps it hit too close to home. The edges of his eyes crinkled, betraying his true age. “Yes. My own father, as well.”

“Oh. What… happened?”

“A long story,” Hanzo pulled at one of his cuffs. “For another time. This conversation is about you and your troubles. I do not wish to make it about myself.”

“It’s alright, sugar. We’re havin’ a heart to heart.”

“Your boss,” Hanzo continued, “I can see why he is paranoid. His empire is crumbling. Your mission in Blackwater went awry, and your mission in Valentine nearly cost you your life. Overwatch is on your heels, and your mission here has failed.” A faraway look flashed across the archer’s face, his eyes unfocusing. “I do not blame his troubled attitude, but I doubt it would lead to your death, if that is what you fear.”

“I don't really fear it. You come to terms with it in this line of work. There's a lot of shit I don't know.” Jesse shrugged. “Maybe if I’m lucky he’ll just kick me outta Deadlock.”

Hanzo scoffed. “You are an invaluable asset; that would be unwise. I have not met him yet, but you speak of him so kindly and so freely, it is hard to imagine a strained relationship. Trust me,” he trailed off a bit, looking small and unfocused, as if a sudden regret crossed his mind, “it would be better to settle your differences than lose one another.” Truly speaking from the heart. Was this about his own father? Despite being so close, the archer was still an enigma.

“There ain’t no way I’m gonna look at Gabe and go ‘sorry but Shimada doesn’t have any money for us’ and live to tell the tale." Jesse laughed darkly. "He already yelled at me over you.”

“Over me?”

How should he pick these words? A true heart-to-heart. He didn’t want to come onto the archer too strong and scare him away. Hanzo was a fantastic listener, but there was such a thing as sharing too much too soon. Whatever. Fuck it. Tell Hanzo the complete truth. No use in trying to hide it now. “I touched on it, awhile back, when there was a lot of lies between us. I don't think you were listening. You were all sorts of upset."

Hanzo frowned. "Tell me again."

The look on the archer's face was almost a pout. Jesse chuckled. "Look, this ain’t how I feel about you now, but I thought you a right jerk a few months back.”

Hanzo raised a brow. “Is that so? An acute observation."

“Yeah. Thought you had too much money. Lived a lavish, rich lifestyle with all these servants and shit without having to lift one pretty finger. Then we got Deadlock. We work hard and get so little. Just seemed unfair. Didn’t like the thought of you much. Rich people were all the same to me. Then I met ya. Shot Peacekeeper right from me, and darlin’ that’s the first time I’ve ever lost a duel in my life. Made me right mad.”

Hanzo looked _smug,_ the bastard. “I apologize for winning.”

“Yeah right, you’re sorry. I'll believe that in a century, maybe. When people can fly and travel through time."

"If it is any consolation, you are at least _second_ best."

"Gee, thanks, makes me feel a whole lot better about myself."

“You are most welcome.”

Jesse felt lighter. Talking to Hanzo was so easy. Maybe as easy as talking to Fareeha. Maybe easier. Who cared. “You wanna have that talk about us right now?”

A flash. Hope, fear, and longing appeared on Hanzo’s face in rapid succession. The archer made to speak, but his expressions were enough of an answer for Jesse.

The gunslinger shot an arm forward, grasping Hanzo’s elbow with as much tenderness as the hands of a murderer could muster. “You’re really somethin’ else, darlin’.” His hand slid down, other coming up to help circle the archer’s small wrist. Jesse turned it over, thumbing the soft underside.

Jesse noticed Hanzo’s dark eyes dart in multiple directions. Was he unsure? Embarrassed? Nervous? It took him a few moments, letting Jesse caress his wrist, before he pulled away gently. “Not here. Come with me.”

Jesse's heart stilled. Hanzo led him upstairs, a place not bustling with dozens of Shimada servants. At least the beautiful interior of the second level was left untouched, aside from the study, still strewn and haphazardly littered with papers.

Jesse eyed the open door of said study as they passed, pace slowing as his gaze fixed on what little he could see through the crack. His fault. Downstairs? His fault. Upstairs? His fault. Everything? His fault.

Hanzo took a few more steps down the hallway before realizing McCree’s absence. He threw a look over his shoulder. "Jesse?”

“You didn’t answer me last night.”

The archer’s lips thinned. “Come again?”

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“I did answer you.”

“But _why?_ ”

Hanzo turned to him fully, standing expectantly further down the hall. “Jesse, move past the study.”

A look. _That_ look. Jesse relented, taking a few hesitant steps on wobbly feet. He suddenly didn’t feel okay enough to have this conversation. A newborn foal on wobbly legs.

It was Hanzo’s turn to grasp his wrist, calloused thumb brushing his pulse. He pulled them into a room, the room he’d woken up in this morning. The room they’d both shared last night. Private. Reserved. Secluded. Theirs.

“You sure know how to make guests feel like royalty.” Jesse mused at the elaborate furnishings. Exquisite and exotic. Beautiful and worth more money than he could ever hope to have.

“This is not a guest room.”

His answer. If that didn’t make Jesse keen. “Oh.” His insides burned, a hot coal stoked by Hanzo’s proximity. A smoldering flame turned on by the mere thought of him. He reached out for the smaller man, pulling his hands to his lips, a tender brush.

Hanzo’s eyes unfocused, but he mustered a teasing smile nonetheless. “I thought you wished to speak.”

“I can do a lot of things while talking.” Jesse murmured against his wrist.

“I have no doubt.”

Jesse moved his attentions, cradling Hanzo’s much smaller hand in his own. He moved his lips upward, pressing a kiss into the archer’s thumb, the inside of his index finger, before finally speaking. Low. Soft. Unguarded. They're murderers, does he deserve this? “Why are we here?”

“To talk.” Hanzo answered under a sigh.

“No,” Jesse moved further up, pressing his lips to Hanzo’s clothed forearm, “why do’ya let me do _this?_ ”

Hanzo’s taste was real. Built with firm muscle. His skin was smooth. Salty from work and sweat, but the hint of soap and a scent uniquely his. The archer yielded, wholly trusting, and a dam of overwhelming fondness threatened to take Jesse under. To smother the other man in affection so strong he hadn't felt in ages.

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Hanzo said quietly, his free hand coming up to touch Jesse’s side. “I will not judge a man’s worth based on one decision and one decision alone.”

“Yer far too trusting of me. I’m nothing but complete shit.” Jesse weaved their fingers together, face coming closer.

“You are too harsh on yourself. Do not speak of such things to me.”

Jesse leaned down, slotting his face in the crook of Hanzo’s shoulder. “I’m tellin’ the truth.”

Every single one of their touches had been light. Wonderful. Warm and affectionate. A humming buzz made its way up McCree’s back, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. The skin under his clothes burned with Hanzo’s touch, yearning to rip free and taste and touch and _feel._ He was, however, unprepared for the hand on his side to rise, threading into McCree’s wild hair and yanking.

“Jesus Christ-” Jesse gasped, body sending out mixed signals of pain and pleasure. “What the hell?”

“I am going to speak to you freely, and you will accept what I have to say.” Hanzo bit out, harsh, but not entirely angry. More… disappointed?

Jesse nodded, a lump in his throat.

“I have known you for months now,” Hanzo began, fondly stroking the hair he'd just yanked. “I have observed many things. The conversation a long time ago, about wanting to be my friend, I could see your true feelings then.”

Jesse laughed. “Was I so transparent, even before I knew I liked you myself?”

Hanzo’s grip tightened again, eliciting another ' _yeouch'_ from him. “Sh.”

Jesse nodded again.

“You wanted to console me. I have been alone for a long time. No family or friends, only workers. Aleksandra is the only slight exception. I know I am not pleasant company myself,” Jesse moved to interrupt, but Hanzo’s grip tightened. “ _Sh,_ Jesse. I want you to know, you cannot make another feel better if you have no self worth yourself.”

The grin on Jesse’s face fell. His eyes dropped to Hanzo’s chest.

Hanzo caressed his jawline, pulling the gunslinger up to look at him. A soft touch with beautiful meaning. “You do not deserve the harshness you give yourself. You deny any compliments to your character. You speak so ill of yourself. You treat others as if they are flawless gold and you are tarnished dirt. It is wrong to do so. You are not the only man on this planet to have made a mistake.”

"Mistakes." Jesse mumbled the correction. "I’ve killed good people for nothing. I've put you at risk, and Zarya. My gang. My family. All because I can’t look past the end of my nose. Or follow one stupid order, for that matter."

“I have done the same. I have killed men and women over pointless things. I have ordered executions. You have seen some. You have _done_ some. I have dishonored my family. I have lost the ones I have cared about due to my own negligence. You should treat me with the same respect you treat yourself, then.”

Jesse jolted. “Never-”

“Then why do it to yourself?” Hanzo thumbed the gunslinger’s scruffy beard, marvelling over it. “I could have killed you a long time ago. It would have been easy. But I got to know you. Saw your true character. You are an honorable man. You make hard decisions, but have true intentions.” He placed a hand on Jesse’s chest, robe bundling under the touch. “I did not kill you because I saw the true you, under the exterior of self loathing. You treated me as a person, not as a crime lord, not as a target. I saw the conflict in your eyes every day I was with you."

With his head free, Jesse leaned forward, Hanzo’s magnetism too much to resist. He slotted his face in the crook of his neck again. The air rippled around them with heated electricity. It felt _real_. Jesse was indeed thoroughly and utterly taken. “I'll try. Can't… can't promise anything, but boy howdy, I'll try. But if I gotta think better of myself, you gotta do the same, sweetheart.”

Hanzo hummed, his throat vibrating against Jesse’s cheek. "Then I will try as well... for you.”

“And if that don’t make me the happiest man alive, then I dunno what will.” Jesse wrapped his hands around Hanzo’s waist, pulling the archer closer, slotting their figures together. Chest to chest, stomach to stomach. He kissed the neck in front of his face, taking any smooth skin that was offered to him. Anything he could touch. Taste. Feel. The touches were electric, charging Jesse's affections with newfound energy. The center of a lightning storm. He swore he heard the distant peel of thunder and a peculiar roar.

Hanzo keened under Jesse’s attentions, hand gripping the font of his silken robe with white knuckles.

“Is this what you want?” Jesse mouthed against the side of Hanzo’s neck, a low noise emerging from him. He felt the man tense under his fingertips, hot as live wire.

“ _You_ are what I want.” Hanzo managed with a strained voice.

“No more lies between us. No more schemes or self loathing or hesitation. You can have all of me if I can have all of you.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Hanzo breathed, composure crumbling. A man on the cusp of losing it.

Jesse took the plunge for him. He hiked Hanzo up, leaning down to join their mouths. He’s wanted this. He’s _needed_ it. It held a different meaning from their first coupling; Hanzo said _those_ words. He was in his arms. Slotted together like two pieces of a puzzle separated for far too long. They’re _together._ Officially in agreement. Jesse has never felt so seared up, so filled with pure unhindered _want_ in his entire life. They were together mere hours ago, rutting in this very room, but in that moment he kissed and fondled and _wanted_ with his entire body, like they'd been apart for years. Long lost lovers reunited.

A sound erupted from the smaller man, something Jesse would never unhear. The gunslinger was in control now, Hanzo submitting with no hesitation. Unexpected but not unwelcome. It was different. The archer kissed him back with matched enthusiasm, rippling with power.

“You really are something else,” Jesse pulled away for a mere moment, lips sticky and wet, chest heaving with more than just the lack of oxygen.

Hanzo actually _snorted,_ but didn’t open his eyes. “You really do never cease talking.”

Oh, he could ‘cease talking’ all right. “I got an idea that’ll really make me shut up.”

Those sleek eyes snapped open.

Jesse herded him further into the room, toward the neatly made bed. Not how he’d left it this morning. Having maids was going to be an interesting change. He knew Hanzo wasn’t dumb, probably expecting what would happen next. He moved back willingly, though; tense. Like prey under the lustful eyes of a predator.

“Jesse, what are you going to do?”

Jesse’s fingers itched incessantly with a feeling he couldn't scratch. “I’m gonna blow you. Can’t talk with my mouth occupied, yeah?"

Hanzo flushed beat red again. Was he really that nervous, even after last night? He seemed taken aback. "You- you do not have to-”

“Oh honey, but I _want_ to.” He urged Hanzo down, the archer offering no resistance, his heart near to full. Jesse climbed over him, sliding them up to the elaborate carved headboard to sit against it, near to drooling. Still, he was ever the gentleman. “Only if you want.”

“I am… not… opposed.”

Jesse thumbed Hanzo’s lower lip, going further down to caress his beard, just as he'd done to him. “Yeah? You gotta relax for me, then, honeybee."

Hanzo returned the gesture, face only scrunching _slightly_ from the new nickname. “I am simply… out of practice. It has been a very long time. I do not wish to disappoint, even after last night."

Jesse grinned against Hanzo’s fingers, kissing them lightly before pulling back. “You don’t gotta worry your pretty little head one bit, sweetpea. I got you.”

He wasted no time after that. Hanzo was much more clothed that he was, hidden behind a placket of stiff cotton, like treasure only for him. He freed the archer, mouth watering at the sight. Nothing like the previous night. They’re open and free and _together_. Clean and calm, the commotion of Saint Denis and beyond a distant memory. Jesse’s world was thoroughly consumed by Hanzo: his scent, his taste, his words and sounds. He'd play it on loop forever if he could; a mantra of the finest song he'd ever heard.

The archer barely made a noise at first, only the sharp intake of breath. He was gorgeous like this. Jesse burned the image in his brain. On his skin. In the deep hollow crevices in his mind. Only Hanzo. For Hanzo. He’d never felt more alive.

Jesse descended, ravenous but gentle. He coaxed as many different sounds from Hanzo that he could; sounds what Hanzo would be appalled to hear come from his own mouth. He felt high on the scent of the smaller man’s skin. Heavenly. Smooth. Divine. He would never understand what he did to deserve the angel under his fingertips and in his mouth.

Jesse hummed. He took as much as he could with his own out-of-practice skills, but Hanzo didn’t complain one bit. Only high keens and gentle gasps: _oh._ There was nothing that sounded sweeter: _please._ Then, Jesse’s ultimate favorite: _jesse._

The room was so sweltering, Jesse felt sweat pool on his skin. His mind hyper focused on one goal. The man under him and in his hands. His thoughts. His every fibre of being. Hanzo’s fingers entangled in Jesse’s hair, raking through it, wild and eager and holding him in place. He jutted against them like a praised dog, leaning in to the intimate touch.

It was over sooner than the both of them would have wished for, inexperience and fatigue catching up to them quickly. Hanzo shuttered with a chattering gasp, teeth clicking together so loud that Jesse could hear. He held the archer down, nosing his way into hair, taking in as much as he could offer. Everything about the scene was lewd and obscene. Clumsy but unique. A moment for them. Only them and no one else. Not Gabe or Zarya or Jack or _whoever_. Everything paused. Nothing else mattered.

Hanzo pulled on McCree’s hair, head rolling and body shivering. He barely heard the tepid plea over the ringing in his ears: _Jesse, please._

Jesse pulled up, likely looking a right mess. He panted for air, lips red and swollen. Wet and sticky. A popping gasp. A hand came up to his mouth. Not his own. He looked to see Hanzo just as wrecked, the archer still in his rumpled vest and long sleeve shirt. A shame. Fuck clothes. Jesse’s robe threatened to unfurl from its tie.

“Are you alright, darlin’?” Jesse said through the archer’s wiping fingers, grappling his wrists. “I got you.”

It took Hanzo a few moments to reply, chest heaving. He blinked. “Yes, I-” even now, after everything, he ducked his head away with a shy chuckle. “I am fine. You are very skilled.”

Jesse offered a toothy smile. He slid up Hanzo’s body before collapsing next to him on the large bed, as close as could be, forcing the other man to look at him. He slotted his head on the archer’s shoulder. “Yer just tellin’ me that to make me feel better.” He teased.

A pinch on his arm. Ouch. “I would never.”

They laid there in amicable silence for what felt like an eternity. The outside world continued on as the two of them laid in bed, tangled together as close as they could. Sleep crept up on the edges of Jesse’s vision, threatening to claim him. He would much rather stare at Hanzo’s face. Fuck clothes and fuck sleep, not when everything in front of him was so real. Something wholly his. Something he'd never thought he'd ever have before.

.

Much later, after they were both sated and the sun had since set, casting the room in silvery moonlight, did Hanzo speak again.

“Take me with you.”

Jesse had been in the place of consciousness between sleep and awake, head and hair draped over Hanzo’s chest, robe long gone. The archer insisted on keeping his own shirt on, despite the heat. It left crumpled indents on Jesse's cheek.

“Wherea’now?” Jesse slurred.

“To your camp.”

McCree’s awareness snapped clear. “I- I dunno, honey.”

Hanzo’s hand raked through messy brown hair for the umpteenth time that evening. “Why not?”

“I dunno what Gabe’s gonna do.”

“Then why face it alone?”

Jesse ghosted his fingertips over the chest under him. "I'd rather you stay outta harm's way."

Hanzo snickered. "I am afraid you are much too late for that. Besides, I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt it one bit, darlin'."

"Then why fight me on this?"

Why fight him on this indeed? Hanzo proved himself a more skillful shot and a more skillful leader many times before. He shouldn't have to worry about the man under him. But he did. Madness consumes people. Changes character. He would have loved Hanzo to meet Gabriel before Blackwater. They'da hit it off so well. Two peas in a pod.

"I can hear you thinking." Hanzo said, breaking the unexpected silence. His hand continued to stroke Jesse's brow.

"Yeah? I'm sorry," Jesse drifted, his eyelids heavy. "I don't mean to question yer skill, hun. I just… don't know what I'd do with myself if Gabriel ever did try to hurt ya."

"He would fail." Hanzo stated so definitive, as if a fact.

"You don't know that."

"Jesse, we must tell him the truth eventually. Am I not allowed to worry over you, myself?" The archer pulled McCree up, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Incredibly affectionate. Jesse would have never imagined this much softness from a mob boss with a permanent scowl. "You say that you are afraid for my well being, and I am flattered, but we agreed that I may worry over you as well. Let me come to help you. I want to offer my assistance. I may not have money to give you, but I have places to stay and working jobs for everyone in your family."

"You'd do that…?" Jesse was awestruck. "For them? You've never met them."

"But I have met you."

Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Jesse mulled over Hanzo's proposition. Maybe Gabriel would be mad over the money, but Hanzo was offering them a permanent, stable home in the world. No more running. No more heists. No more bounty. A real life. A settled life, just like the one Gabriel wanted. Except this was Saint Denis and not Tahiti.

"I shall bring along Aleksandra, if that would ease your worries. There would be three of us and one of him."

The answer wasn't hard. Jesse's mission in Shimada mansion was to secure them the funds for a proper home. He couldn't get the money, but he could get the _home_. As long as Gabe agreed. Maybe everything wasn't a complete and total failure. As… as long as Gabe agreed.

"Alright," Jesse closed his eyes, his mind fuzzy from overstimulation and overuse. He pressed his cheek on the archer's clothed chest, inhaling incense and sex and _Hanzo_. "Zarya comes along, though."

"As you wish." Hanzo agreed, caressing McCree's ear.

The pair slipped silently into the realm of dreams, forgetting the troubles in front of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hey! I'm not dead!!!!!!!! Just had a lot of stuff happening, I barely had time to fit writing into the other things in my schedule. But I'm back and ready to finish this!  
> \- What have I been up to? Uh, I got engaged (hehe), I got a McCree tattoo (the Deadeye symbol on my wrist! I'll be getting more Overwatch tattoos here soon!), andddd I got confirmation that I'm a diamond level DPS main in competitive deathmacth :D At least... on McCree and Hanzo. I only played them ////shrug. Those McCree buffs are SOMETHIN ELSE MAN.  
> \- I am truly sorry for the wait, and am very thankful for those who have stuck with me through this mini-hiatus! I have the next chapter already half written! There shouldn't be as long of a wait :P the story is almost done, actually! We're hittin' the end! Only a few more chapters ///side eyes the chapter count///  
> \- Idk if anyone will notice, but I also bumped the rating from E to M. I decided to would prefer writing M over E personally, and I find it far easier to write. The easier it is, the faster it'll come out!  
> \- Thanks for reading! And commenting! And following! And kudos! And EVERYTHING! I love you all!!!! xox


	10. Goodbye, Dear Friend

Just like the previous morning, Jesse awoke to the sting of harsh morning sunlight fluttering through the curtains. The sky beyond the fabric was a brilliant orange, lighting up the room with a soft ethereal glow.

Unlike the previous morning, however, Jesse awoke with _Hanzo_ plastered to his side, warmer than a furnace and surprisingly clingy. Hanzo's features were delicate in sleep, his permanent scowl and the furrow of his brows nonexistent. One of his muscled arms draped over Jesse's chest while the other was curled up by his face. The archer seemed younger. Freer. Jesse never thought he'd deserve to see anything as precious as this. He couldn't resist running the backs of his fingers over sharp, beautiful cheekbones.

Hanzo’s face twitched at the contact, apparently a light sleeper. Jesse smiled sheepishly when the archer’s eyes squinted open in disdain.

"Hey there, gorgeous. Fancy seein' you here at this hour." Jesse said, light with amusement.

"I live here." Hanzo answered flatly.

Jesse chuckled, reaching forward to fit Hanzo against his collar. The archer folded easily, free and affectionate and _wonderful_.

“Yer real snugglish.” Jesse murmured.

He felt a huff of amused breath and a dusky laugh. “And you smell like smoke and sweat.”

Jesse sputtered. “Wow. I greet you real nice like, let you use me as a personal furnace, helped you all yesterday with the mansion, let you have your way with me all night… then you go ahead and _insult_ me and tell me I smell? I’m real hurt over here, darlin'."

"You are a tough gentleman. You will survive this travesty."

Jesse snickered. "You must be real fun at parties."

"As you have observed, I throw, as you would say, 'killer' parties."

McCree choked in surprise, inhaling down the wrong windpipe. His chest jerked violently as he coughed out lungfuls of boisterous laughter. Hanzo pulled away, startled.

"Holy shit," Jesse wheezed. "Wasn't expecting that."

Hanzo's brows furrowed, lips pulled into a small smirk. "I can be humorous when I try to be."

"No offense, honey, but sometimes you got the humor of an unpolished floorboard. With a hole in it, mind you. Maybe some dry rot. A nail or two."

Jesse was promptly smothered with a fluffy pillow. He grappled Hanzo with muffled amusement, thrill shooting through his body as he found them equally matched. He's never felt more attracted to someone in his sorry life. Hanzo is warm and real and _right_. Two kindred souls in an endless stream of difficulties. He pushed Hanzo down, pressing him against the sheets with rekindled intensity. He wasn't ashamed to admit they stayed in bed longer than they should have that morning.

As much as they didn't want it, they eventually had to pry themselves apart, hormones be damned. They rose for the day _together;_ washing away the remnants of sleep and sex; brushed down wild hair and unkempt beards. Jesse had a morning routine before all of this- rise with the sun, brush the bugs out of his sleeping bag, wash in a river and then practice shooting. Usually with Fareeha. Sometimes Hana, who was eager to learn. But there was something wholly _domestic_ about sharing his morning with Hanzo. They fit together as they moved about. Their small quips and playful bites were warm and affectionate. It took a minute for McCree to place the feeling while sneaking glances at Hanzo. _Do I love him? Is it too soon to say?_ Maybe it was infatuation. He's thirty-six. This wasn't a crush. It's different. He felt… it all felt… so _different._ He felt welcomed. Happy. Appreciated. Accepted for who he was as a person and not simply for his skill at killing. He was unfamiliar with love in a romantic setting. Was this it? Had this been the place he'd been destined to come to, all this time? Had every wrong turn and bullet and heartache and near death encounter led him _here?_

A maid knocked on the door, drawing McCree out of his stupor. She handed Hanzo a few folded items before bowing and excusing herself. The very first thing that caught Jesse's eye was the bright and rich red of his serape. Hanzo handed him his clothes, the stack smelling refreshed and clean. A hint of whatever Hanzo's own clothes smelled of. They were also mended. Even the parts torn up by bullets and wilderness, surely past repair, had been stitched back up to near perfection.

"You fixed 'em?" Jesse asked as he clutched his clothes, a little awestruck at the small but meaningful gesture; especially the serape. No matter how tattered it got, he'd never been able to replace it.

Hanzo looked at him, body rigid with an unfamiliar emotion he hasn't displayed all morning. Jesse immediately wanted to soothe him. Was that… shyness? Uncertainty? "I knew you would likely not enjoy an entire new set of clothes, so I took the liberty of mending what you already own. I hope that is… acceptable?"

"'Acceptable'?" Jesse said, running a thumb over the familiar red fabric, chest full to bursting. Boy, he didn't deserve the other man one bit. "That's damn near the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me, sweetheart."

Hanzo offered a small smile, happiness morphing from the tension in his back. A stark contrast from the cold crime boss Jesse had met months ago. Calm and proud and _beautiful._ Jesse tugged him closer, unable to resist a fervent kiss. To his unfamiliar delight, Hanzo kissed him back.

.

As he and Hanzo left their room behind, the warm pocket of domesticity they made broke. With it's departure, the dread of harsh reality began to seep into Jesse's thoughts again. What he'd give to live in that room for the rest of his life, unburned and oblivious to the issues of life. He wanted to stay there with Hanzo and feel whole and accepted for the rest of his days.

Zarya met them downstairs, already bright eyed and awake. "Greetings, sleeping beauties. To whom do we owe the pleasure?"

"Aleksandra." Hanzo warned, a slight tint of pink dusting his cheeks. McCree certainly would _never_ grow tired of that. "Surely you have better things to report rather than our… tardiness this morning."

Zarya clapped his shoulder, a devilish smirk on her features. It was nice to have her approval. "Of course."

As they ate breakfast (delicious fruits and vegetables, rice, eggs, an assortment of meats that Jesse had never had the pleasure of tasting. Gourmet compared to Mako's rough stews), Hanzo listened to Zarya's reports. Half the information went over McCree's head. Money money money, blah blah blah, rival gang battles, blah blah blah, the aftermath of the party and Mayor Winston's sincere apologies to Saint Denis. Gérard and Amélie were apparently fine as well.

"Why is the mayor sorry? It ain't his fault." Jesse stuffed a spoonful of rice into his face.

Hanzo eyed him, frowning. At his obliviousness or his poor table manners, he didn't know. The archer _did_ have a pretty cute frown, though. "He insisted the party be here in Shimada mansion to garner us more favor with the citizens of the city."

"He said he feels immensely guilty." Zarya continued with an amused huff. "Not like it's his fault we're _technically_ a crime organization. Perhaps this will dissuade him from holding town gatherings in horrendous places in the future."

"Are-" Jesse hesitated, trying not to overstep. Everything was still so incredibly new. He turned to Hanzo. "Are you expecting Overwatch to try and arrest you again?"

"They have tried many times. None that public or destructive." Hanzo looked at him. _Thoroughly._ As if seeing straight through his facade. Truly an open book. "But I believe you know the answer to your own question. Will Ana Amari and Jack Morrison try again, or give up?"

Both leaders were so driven. So determined. Jesse was sure almost _nothing_ would stand in their way. "There's nothing that'll stop Ana from her goals." He said, somber. "Nothing at all."

"Then we must be vigilant." Zarya pumped her fist. "We made it through their toughest attack yet! I'd like to see them try again."

Hanzo flexed his fingers on his hot mug. "Truthfully, I am unsure of how we would have made it through such an assault without Jesse."

"Awh, shucks," Jesse fought a rising blush, "y'give me too much credit, given the circumstances."

"You were a proverbial unexpected bump in the road for them. Thank you." Hanzo paused before quickly adding; "for saving us, I mean."

Jesse felt warm. Appreciated. Different than Gabriel's appreciation, consisting of insults and punching. "That's real kind. I'm just doin' my job."

"Yes, well, don't feel too grand. Taking you in has led to its own slew of problems." Hanzo chuckled behind his mug.

Harsh. Jesse placed an affronted hand onto his chest, faking mock hurt. "With one hand you give, with the other y'take away."

Hanzo scoffed before turning his attention elsewhere. "Aleksandra, there is something we must discuss."

Zarya snorted. "Is it about your 'tardiness' this morning? I assure you, Sir Shimada, when a man and a man like each other _very much-_ "

McCree couldn't help but burst out laughing. Hanzo practically jumped from his seat, threatening to spill tea everywhere.

"No!" Hanzo shouted, flustered as Zarya began laughing as well. He was bright red, mouth a thin line that just _begged_ to be kissed. What a waste Jesse was on the other side of the table. "I could fire you at any moment! Be warned."

"You wouldn't." Zarya shrugged him off. "You hate paperwork, and I am the one to normally do it."

" _Anyway_ ," Hanzo stretched the word with venom, "this is far more important than… _that._ With Jesse's presence, he brings more problems. Particularly, the Deadlock gang. We require your assistance with a certain assignment."

Zarya sobered. "Oh? Is this an… uh, assassination mission again?"

McCree perked with alarm. Again? "Now don't you hurt a single hair on _any_ of their heads. I will kill you."

Hanzo was quick to defend. "No, no, this will be diplomatic instead. We will speak to them. Gabriel Reyes is expected to be… difficult."

"Ah, I see." Zarya chuckled. "Well, with three of us and one of him, I doubt we have much to worry about."

"What did you mean by ' _again?_ '" Jesse asked, mood significantly soured.

"Oh, uh," Zarya glanced around. For the first time, he actually saw her _nervous_. "Really, it wasn't…"

Hanzo was not so hesitant or nervous. In fact, he held a steely look, shoulders squared and proud. "I will not lie to you, Jesse. As we have determined, we did not trust one another in the beginning. Deadlock was a threat. Watching you and befriending you gave us an upper hand. You gave us an in to your organization. Once we got in, we were going to execute you. All of you, in fact. Without hesitation."

Hanzo. Ever so blunt. Jesse was a pawn. Being made a fool of. A disposable tool. _Used_. "Ah." Was all he could say in reply. He looked away.

"Do not be upset," Hanzo frowned. "You and your gang were doing the exact same thing. Nothing came of it. Nothing will come of it. You have my word. What is done is done."

He wasn't wrong. Still, Jesse felt a twinge of ire. Surely he had no right to feel this way, after committing the same crimes. The hypocrisy of his feelings made him even more irritated. "Thank you."

"As for Gabriel Reyes," Hanzo continued. "Jesse has agreed to set up a meeting. I have agreed to go. We will discuss our situation together, as a group. If all goes well, we may have a few new very capable agents."

"And if things don't go well?" Zarya raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I…" Hanzo glanced at McCree. Several emotions passed across the archer's face. Fear. Uncertainty. Determination. _Longing._ "I do not know."

 

\---

 

Time passed in the blink of an eye. Jesse felt an anxious mess, sweaty and nervous as they prepared to leave. This wasn't exactly the way he'd envisioned introducing a romantic partner to Gabriel, but there was no backing out now. Not when Zarya was poised and ready as an intimidating bodyguard. Not when Hanzo seemed so pleased that Jesse trusted him enough to come along, brighter and younger than Jesse had ever seen him. Not when a Shimada agent placed Bounty's reins in his hands, the stallion brushed down and ready for the short ride to Shady Belle. The horse shook his head in delight.

Jesse stayed silent the entire ride, listening to Hanzo and Zarya idly converse to pass the time. He still felt an echo of the irritation he'd had before, mood still sour and down. The horses ambled forward at a reasonable trot, in no hurry to get to their destination. He envied their obliviousness. He envied Hanzo and Zarya's ability to stay calm in the face of impending danger. They didn't know Gabriel. What he'd done. What he was capable of doing. Jesse's stomach plummeted the moment his surroundings became more familiar. Everything was too slow and too fast all at once. He felt like vomiting.

"I'll bring him here." Jesse stated in a low voice as they neared a small clearing, the first thing he'd said since leaving Shimada mansion.

"We'll be waiting, then." Zarya gave a small salute. In any other interaction, he would have appreciated her quips. He didn't acknowledge her now.

He steered Bounty into the trees, leaving the two of them in said clearing. The trees rustled in the slight breeze. It wasn't too hot and wasn't too cold. Birds whistled about, ducking and diving between the leaves. The sun cast a soft glow on his surroundings. Everything was blissfully serene. A calm before the impending storm.

"Who's there?" Came Lúcio's familiar chirp after a few minutes of riding. On watch patrol. He came into view as Jesse pulled his horse closer. The younger man was sitting on a boulder, two sticks in hand, tapping quietly to a rhythm. He'd paused at the gunslinger's approach, wary.

Jesse pulled the brim of his hat down. "McCree."

Lúcio _bolted_ upwards, back straightening. Several expressions flashed over his face at once. Glee, worry, (fear?), before finally setting on relief. "Hey, man! News on Shimada mansion travels fast, and you didn’t come back yesterday. Oh my God, everyone is going to be so relieved to see you! Especially Fareeha. She's not here right now though. But Gabe is! Oh! Are you okay? I didn't even ask you that! I'm sorry! I'm just- wait a minute-" the younger man paused and took a steadying breath. "I'm just glad you're alive. Oh man. You have no idea."

Jesse had not considered what his absence might mean to the gang. He'd been so wrapped up in _Shimada_ and _Overwatch_ and _Hanzo_ to focus on anything else. Lúcio's ecstatic greeting lifted his sour mood, if only a little. He was such a good kid. He'd missed everyone in Deadlock, even if it had only been a few days. “I’m fine, Lúcio. Thanks fer askin'. That's real kind of you."

Lúcio showed no signs of calming down. "No sweat. Hey! I'll go with you back to camp! I can't wait to see all their faces! Fareeha and Genji volunteered to go find you, so they aren't here right now, but I'm sure they'll be back soon."

McCree didn’t answer. He climbed off the horse, feeling small and vulnerable. dread clouded the back of his mind. Lúcio bounded away, shouting: _"Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey! You guys have no idea who's here!"_

Hana was the first to pop her small head out of her tent as they approached camp, face of pure delight. She almost tripped over herself as she bounded forward. “What?! Oh!" Her face lit up when she saw McCree. "Jesse! You're not dead!"

If only he really were. "Hey, little lady."

Jesse had an armful of shrieking Hana the next moment, startled and nearly falling over. He hadn't realized just how much he'd worried them. He felt guilty. He didn't deserve their loyalty. Tentatively, he hugged her back. Her laugh was muffled in his shirt.

To his left, down the way, Olivia and Moira looked up with surprise.

"Ah, _vaquero,_ " Olivia sauntered forward. "I had a feeling you weren't dead. It would take more than just the entirely of _Overwatch_ to bring you down."

"You betcha." Jesse chuckled.

Hana yelped as she was pushed out of the way by Moira. The doctor asserted herself into his space, grabbing onto his arms and inspecting them. "McCree. It is nice to see you alive. Are you unharmed? Do you require assistance?"

He pulled back, rubbing his arms in the places she touched. It felt strange. "No, thank you."

Down the way, Mako was stirring the dinner pot, only looking up for a brief second before going back to his business. Quiet as ever. Jesse assumed the brief acknowledgement was humbling enough. Jamison poked his head out from behind the giant, shouting a brief: "'ey mate! Glad you're okay!"

Lastly, as if a grand entrance, Gabriel burst out of his dark tent. His face seemed weary, deep dark circles under heavy eyes, deep lines across his face betraying his true age. Gabriel had never looked so _old._ His gaze caught Jesse's, eyes widening.

“Gabe.” Jesse croaked, his heart racing, unsure of what to say all of a sudden. “I, uhm...”

Before McCree had a chance to say anything else, Gabriel shot forward like a bullet, pulling the gunslinger into a tight embrace. The older man was unnervingly cold. "You're alive! Jesse McCree! What happened? Did you start the fight? I heard Overwatch was involved. Was Jack there? Amari? What did Shimada do? The money, too, did you get it?"

A thousand questions seemed to bust out of Gabriel, some of which Jesse didn't process. He was still so focused on the way Gabriel looked and felt. Weary. Cold. Worried. Old. It wasn't until the other man steadied him with a hand did he focus. McCree had been swaying, dizzy with nausea and anxiety. 

"Mijo?" Gabriel pressed, eyeing him carefully. "Are you all right?"

Was he all right? He didn't know. There was so much he needed to tell the Deadlock boss, and he knew the man wouldn't react well at all. He was nothing but a failure and a disappointment. “I need to talk to you.” Jesse glanced at the clearing of Deadlock members, vision blurry. He coughed. “Privately.”

Gabriel blinked. His fingers tightened, lips a thin line. “Oh? Of course. Whatever you need.”

_This is it. This is the story of how I die, ain't it?_

Gabriel released him, letting Jesse turn away.

"I, uh," Jesse looked at the other Deadlock members, taking in their appearance. He was surely going to die now. This would be the last time he saw them. Definitely. "Thanks for the warm welcome back. It's nice to see ya all."

"Likewise." Moira said.

"As always." Olivia snickered.

"Yeah!" Lúcio cheered.

"Mako and Jamison are making turkey gumbo." Hana feigned dramaticism. "You'll be forgiven if you tell me all the cool details of the other night over dinner."

"Hey!" Lúcio piped. "Me too! Don't leave me out of the gossip!"

Gabriel quieted them down. "He will tell us all. Now, I assume this is very important," he looked at the gunslinger. "Let's go."

He followed behind McCree as they left, shoulders squared and suddenly tense, no questions asked. All eyes were on them as they walked out of camp. It was as if Jesse was walking toward the gallows.

Gabriel wasted no time as soon as they were out of hearing range. "What is it, Jesse? It is obviously not good."

"I… uh… I'll explain when we get there."

"Where is _there?_ "

"I… I really can't say."

Gabriel set his jaw. "It's about Jack."

Jesse cringed. "Jack wasn't there."

It took a few seconds before Gabriel breathed out in amazed realization. "You saw Amari."

He couldn't lie. "Yes."

"What did she say?"

"She regrets what she's done." Jesse muttered.

"Don't let her do that." Gabriel spat, louder than before. "Don't let her in. She's different than the Ana you once knew. She doesn't deserve your pity or your loyalty."

McCree's nervousness got the best of him. He stumbled on a tree root, flailing like an uncoordinated toddler. Gabriel's hand shot out to keep him upright.

"What has gotten into you? You have never been this nervous, even when we were _breaking out of Overwatch._ This is more than just Amari getting under your skin."

Yeah. He'd been nervous during their breakout, but knew Gabriel would be there if anything went wrong. Knew Ana would not kill him or Fareeha. Were they in danger then? Sure. But this was different. Hanzo and Zarya's lives were at stake. His life was at stake. Ana and Jack _would_ kill him now. He loved Gabriel. The father he never knew he needed. But Gabriel was vulnerable. Fragile. Easy to anger. This meeting was destined to fall the fuck apart. He never _ever_ wanted to choose between protecting Gabriel from Hanzo or protecting Hanzo from Gabriel.

"Wait." Gabriel stopped dead in his tracks after a few silent moments. Jesse was about to question him until he saw the older man's gaze fixed on something between the trees. Without warning, Gabriel snatched Jesse's jacket, yanking him back behind a dead trunk. McCree helplessly stumbled. "Were you _followed?_ Is _that_ why I'm here?"

The sudden jerk sent Jesse's head into a spinning mess. He pressed a palm to his clammy forehead and reached forward with the other. Fuck. Hanzo and Zarya must have come closer. “No, Gabriel _wait-_ "

Too late. Gabriel moved too fast for him. The infamous Deadlock boss readied his short shotguns, aim pointed and unwavering. He moved toward their perpetrators (perpetrators? _Hanzo_ and _Zarya_ _)_ with the serene grace of a deadly panther.

Hanzo was the first to hear something amiss. He tensed and turned, defensive stance widening. He readied Storm Bow with a gleaming silver arrow, deadly and beautiful. Jesse's heart thumped. Zarya flicked out her gun.

"Put your weapons down." Gabriel warned as he took cover.

"You first, old man." Zarya sneered.

Jesse lunged forward with considerably less grace, more like a mangy coyote. "Hold up, now!"

"Ready your gun, now!" Gabriel turned, wild eyed. "Behind cover!"

"Gabe-"

Hanzo's attention flickered as McCree approached. "Jesse-"

Gabriel sputtered. " _Jesse?!_ "

Oh no. McCree hesitated. "Hanzo-"

" _Hanzo?!_ " Gabriel reeled around from behind his cover, shotgun aimed straight for the smaller boss's head. No, dear lord please _don't._ "Oh, so _this_ is big Shimada. In the flesh. _Following_ us."

"A pleasure to meet you like this, Gabriel Reyes." Hanzo gazed down the barrel of Gabriel’s shotgun, unfazed at staring death in the face. The bow didn't rise, but the arrow was still ready. Jesse admired his confidence.

"Why have you followed McCree here?" Gabriel snarled. "If the answer is to murder us, I'd advise you to turn around before I put a giant slug through your thick head."

Jesse tensed in alarm. He readied Peacekeeper. Could he shoot? Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. "Gabriel-"

Hanzo actually _laughed_. An open, loud, barking laugh. "How hospitable of you. Jesse invited us here as guests."

Gabriel's eyes hooded as he looked at the gunslinger, a murderous gleam. "Did he now." It wasn't a question.

Jesse felt like a deer at the end of a hunter's rifle. "Hear me out-"

The shotguns flicked to him, gleaming like fire. "You invited the Shimada _crime lord_ to _our_ camp?"

Jesse pointed Peacekeeper in self defense; not like he could ever pull the trigger anyway. "Like I said, hear me out-"

"Do you _want_ us to die?"

"Hanzo and Zarya wont-"

Gabriel took a step. " _Eres un imbé-_ "

The last straw. Jesse's temper snapped, morphing nervousness to panicked anger. His trigger finger itched. "Holy _SHIT_ , let me talk for _TWO_ goddamn seconds before you interrupt. Hear me. The fuck. Out. Look, none of this is good news so just shut up for, I dunno, maybe _three_ whole goddamn minutes so I can lay down what the fuck is going on. _¿Me entiendes?"_

The clearing was silent. Gabriel glowered for a few moments before grunting. "Fine. For you. I'm listening, _pendejo_."

“Great,” Jesse said. “Now let's just lower our guns real nice like. I brought them here to, uh, negotiate.”

“This is hardly negotiating.” Hanzo quipped.

Dear Lord, this archer was going to be the death of him. "Honey, _please_ don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. It wasn’t like he didn't already know about their whirlwind romance, but confirming it in person was a whole different beast. He remained deathly quiet, shotguns still raised, ignoring McCree's request.

The words bubbled in the back of Jesse’s throat, dry like chalk. The hardest words he’d ever had to say to Gabriel. Sorry, the plan you put all our hopes and dreams in is a complete bust. His stomach churned. The dizzy feeling from before never fully faded away. He went to speak, mouth open, but faltered with nervousness. He coughed instead.

“Well then?” Gabriel growled. “What do you have to say, then?”

Jesse dug his grave and was barely prepared to sleep in it. Here it was. A defining decision. He'd have to live with these words for the rest of his life. “There ain’t no money.”

Gabriel’s brows furrowed. “Come again?”

“There isn’t a single dime we can take from the Shimada.”

Gabriel’s gaze snapped to Hanzo. Dark. Murderous. _Sickening._ To Jesse’s absolute horror, the Deadlock boss started to advance. “You did this.”

Hanzo took a step back, bowstring tight but still aimed down. Jesse lunged, hooking his arm around Gabriel's waist. “Boss, no! It has nothing to do with him!”

Gabriel practically _ghosted_ out of Jesse's grasp. “You did this. You’ve corrupted him. Telling him lies and making him believe you! Is this how you made your wealth in the first place? Is this how you keep it? Seducing people and tearing families apart?!”

A flash of emotion. Hanzo seemed… genuinely upset. The bow never rose. He looked away with a frown.

“Hey now,” Jesse said, “that’s mighty rude. Nothing like that.”

“I just told you to not let Amari in, but you let _him_ in?!” Gabriel whirled. “You _actually_ believe him?”

“I believe him because it’s a fact. We can’t steal any money because ain't none of it’s in America.”

For once, Gabriel seemed to struggle. He looked lost. “Then take me there! Let Deadlock scour your whole fucking mansion and then _maybe_ I’ll believe you!”

Hanzo didn't look up. “As you wish. I have nothing to hide.”

“You believe him now?" Jesse asked. "Wanna go to Shimada mansion, then?”

Gabriel's breathing sped up, his chest heaving with large, uneven gasps. “It’s a trap. I’ll never set foot in that mansion. He’ll just kill us. No. No, no, no."

As the Deadlock boss, practically his father, visibly began to lose composure, Jesse felt a pang of immense guilt. He'd done this. _He'd done this._ _All his goddamn fault._ "Gabe, you're bein' paranoid over this. Please listen. Please."

In a fit of uncharacteristic panic, Gabriel dropped his guns. His hands came up to his short black hair, carding through as much of it as he could. The beginnings of his nervous breakdown. He started clawing at his own face and neck, leaving red marks against tanned skin. “I’ve raised you. I’ve given you a home. I’ve fed you and clothed you and gave you your fucking gun. I saved you. I saved you from that prison Jack trapped you in, believed in you, _trusted_ you, saw you as my fucking _son_ , and you… you repay me by calling me delusional and defying me… damning Deadlock and everything we’ve built together, for _him?_ A man you've met only a few months ago. A man _I_ ordered you to meet. _I_ ordered you to follow. _I_ ordered you to… to…"

"No Gabe, please," Jesse reached out, "this is all _for_ Deadlock. Everything I've done with my life is for Deadlock. I don't know anything else. I promise you. I promise you that. Things don't always work out the way we plan. We learned that in Blackwater. We learned that in Valentine. Yeah? Give this a chance. Give _me_ a chance."

Gabriel seemed to falter more at the mere mention of Blackwater. He clawed at his chest with shaky hands, face whipping to Hanzo's with blind rage. “You’ve done this." He repeated. "Do you see this? Are you proud of yourself? You’ve corrupted a good man. My son. My life. I’ve made him everything he is and your sick, twisted plan has gone and split him apart! Is this what you wanted? Was this your plan all along? To take him from me?!"

“No." Hanzo said with a low, calm tone. A sharp contrast to the other boss. "This is never what I intended, nor what I would ever wish for.”

"I'm not fucking 'corrupted.'" Jesse stated, not harsh but stern. "I'm also not a good man, but thanks anyways. Please, _listen_ to me."

"Why have you brought them here? To kill me? Us? Everyone? Why, Jesse? _Why?!"_ Gabriel all but shouted. Shrill panic. Disbelief. He was utterly losing it. Jesse felt so sick.

McCree sputtered. "No! They're here to help! Boss, whether we like it or not, we've run outta options here. We got Overwatch after us. We've got thousands of dollars in collective bounties on our heads. We can't step foot in West Elizabeth without dyin'. We're all alone out here because we've made so many enemies. Over dumb stupid shit. So look, I got a better idea. Why don't we make a friend, instead? And not just any friend, this is the fucking _Shimada_. Some of the most powerful guys in the state."

"You're a complete and utter moron." Gabriel said. "He's got you wrapped around his pinky." Then, lower, as if he hadn't meant to be heard: "maybe more like his dick."

Jesse bristled. "Are you serious?"

Hanzo stopped the inevitable shouting match. "It is not my intention to cause your family harm or split you apart. You have raised a good man and have a successful… business. I wish to grant you help. I want you to succeed. Jesse has done nothing but say praises about you and what you have accomplished. You would make good agents, and I owe Jesse a debt. You are welcome to our home."

Gabriel leveled Hanzo a flat glare. "We literally tried to rob you blind and maybe kill you. I'll step foot on the moon before I believe a thing you say."

Hanzo pressed on, unmoved. "Jesse means well. You mean a great deal in his life. He speaks of Deadlock in every conversation."

"Does he now?" Gabriel hissed. "How much does your little _boyfriend_ know of us?"

Jesse groaned. "He knows enough! I'm not stupid. Look, he can be a powerful ally. A friend. When have we ever had a goddamn fuckin' _friend?_ "

"We don't. I'm not putting my security in anyone other than myself." Gabriel growled.

Please, Gabe. Please, please, _please._ Jesse pitched his tone low; quiet. Pleading. "Maybe this time we can do something different."

"No!" Gabriel clamped his hands over his ears, grimacing. "Stop it!"

"Boss-"

"Just stop, McCree. I've had enough of this. I'm- I'm done. Done. Done with it all!"

A beat of silence. Jesse felt his chest thump. "Then what? This mission is over. What do we do now?"

"Are you thick in the head? You chose your side. You chose it months ago, and I'm a dumb fuck for not realizing it sooner. I gave you a chance. I thought you were better." _No, no, no._ But there was no stopping Gabriel's angry tirade, eyes wide and disbelieving. "All those years and this is how you repay me? By siding with a Japanese crime syndicate over your family? A man, an organization, that you've only known for a few _months?_ When Deadlock needs you most? When _I_ need you most?" He paused, pure unbridled fury masking barely controlled panic. "You know what? Fuck you. I don't need you."

Jesse made to say something, anything, _anything-_ but he opened his mouth and all that came out was a wet aborted cough.

Hanzo swooped in, catching McCree's stutter, hoping to remedy the situation. Bless his heart. "I do not wish to come between you and your family, Gabriel Reyes. I have learned the hard way what it is like to lose those close to you. I advise that you don't push one another away."

"You, of all people, won't tell me what to do." Gabriel snarled.

"What must I do to prove my sincerity to you?" Hanzo asked.

Gabriel turned away. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"No, you know what? You can do one thing." Gabriel picked up his discarded shotguns and holstered them back at his hips with shaky hands. "You can take McCree back to your little mansion and never show your face to me again. I'm protecting the rest of Deadlock; the ones who _care_ enough to tell me what they're doing. The ones who don't talk back and follow my orders. The ones who _trust_ me to make the right decisions despite all that's happened."

Jesse tried. He was trying _so hard_ to speak. He'd replayed this scenario a hundred times in his head. What he'd say. What he'd do. What Gabriel would say. What Gabriel would do. He tried so hard. Speak. Say something. Anything. Say it. _All of it! Move your goddamn fucking mouth!_

Gabriel hesitated. _Hesitated._ Unsure. Gabriel Reyes was almost _never_ unsure of himself. Hanzo was silent. Zarya was silent. Jesse needed to speak. Every fiber of his body _screamed_ with the need to. No matter what he did, it never came.

The silence spoke for itself, then. Gabriel grunted, stalking away. "Good riddance."

Jesse watched, helpless, unmoving, as the very foundation of his life slipped away. Utterly, hopelessly, undeniably useless.

The three of them watched Gabriel disappear into the brush in continued silence. Minutes passed. Jesse curled and uncurled his fists. He was sweaty. Shaky. Uncertain. Lost. In the haze of McCree's growing hysteria, he felt Hanzo's gentle touch.

"Jesse," the archer murmured.

"Don't touch me." Jesse finally said, jerking away. Of course. The first thing out of his useless mouth was a hurtful snap toward the only man who actually gave two shits.

Hanzo didn't try to touch him again.

 

\---

 

Time faded in and out after that, blurry and indecipherable. Despite McCree's outburst and barely contained resolve, Hanzo and Zarya all but dragged him back to Shimada mansion.

He heard Hanzo press several times, trying desperately to get through to him. _Will you be alright? What can I do? Jesse, please talk to me. Let me in. Let me help you._

 _I don't deserve it._ Jesse's thoughts betrayed him. _I don't need it. Leave me be. Let me go._ He didn't know if he spoke the words aloud. He tried to, anyway. Despite everything, he was ushered back to Saint Denis in deliriousness.

Jesse had known two things in his entire life. There were two phases to everything he was as a person. Many years ago, when he was a kid with no cares in the world, he had Overwatch. It started fantastic. He felt loved and supported. Family and friends. Home. He was a kid who couldn't remember anything past _Ana_ and _Jack_ and _Gabriel_ and _Fareeha._ Nothing else mattered.

Then the second phase. Gabriel busted him out of his home-turned-prison. Deadlock formed, beginning with Gabriel, Fareeha, and himself. Over the years they'd made a name for themselves. Gained members. Lost members. Gained family. Lost family. Hardened by the wilderness and the harsh realities of the wild west. Sure, life wasn't as cushy as being with Overwatch, but it was _free._ Open American plains and a family that truly cared.

Now, he assumed through a thick haze of longing, that he was here at phase three. Too many missions gone wrong. Gabriel's waning patience. A Japanese crime lord too alluring and gentle for his small brain and longing body to resist. A Russian woman the size of a mountain with a heart just as big.

Was this his life now? Would Gabriel hunt him down? Would he see Fareeha again? Hana or Lúcio? Moira, Jamison, Olivia, Mako? Hell… even Ashe? Had he given everything up for Hanzo? What had he done? Every second of his day had been devoted to Deadlock. Every decision he made was for Deadlock. What was he without Deadlock?

"Hey," It was Zarya. She sounded far away. "Jesse? Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything?"

His voice was raw when he spoke. "I need to be put on a one way ship goin' to fuckin' Tahiti and die."

Zarya's eyebrows knitted in worry. The blurriness made a halo form around her. "I won't do that. I was more referring to like, tea or incense? That is always what calms down Sir Shimada."

"Well, I ain't Sir Shimada!" Jesse snapped.

Zarya startled. He felt immediate guilt.

"I'm sorry." He added quickly. "I shouldn't- none of this is your fault. You and Hanzo… you and _Hanzo…_ "

"It's fine." She said as he trailed away. "I understand, McCree. More than you know."

He was struck, then, by a sudden absence. He remembered Hanzo bringing him to Shimada mansion, but the archer was nowhere in the room. He'd told Hanzo off. He'd told Hanzo _off._ Why would Hanzo stick around for _him,_ after everything he'd done?

Gone, gone, gone. Hanzo, gone. Gabriel, gone. Ana, gone. Gone, gone gone gone gone gone _gone-_

Panic seized McCree's chest. Pure, unbridled, searing panic. He clutched at his shirt. He was too warm; sweaty and clammy. Moreso, he was trembling. He was used to the little wheeze in his breath from years of smoking, but standing there in the middle of that decorated mansion devoid of any human presence but himself and Zarya, he suddenly couldn't breathe.

"McCree!" Zarya shot forward just as Jesse drew in a pained gasp. With his blurry vision and fuzzy hearing, her face was quickly fading from view.

Jesse had given up everything. Everything he'd ever known- and for what? What should he have done? What should he do? He knew better- he knew _better-_

Bile rose in his throat. His heart thudded. He vaguely felt the backs of his knees hit something solid. He felt woozy, searing pain in his head that thudded with each wild beat of his heart. Was he dying? Was this it? His vision blacked out. He was seconds away from throwing up when he felt a coldness on his skin. A pair of hands gently grabbed both sides of his face. They felt so good- so welcoming. Something akin to the old feeling of true home he'd missed since he was a boy. Wonderfully familiar. It couldn't be true.

"Jesse?" He swore he heard _Ana_ say. It was Ana in front of him. Ana had stumbled her way into the room with a shove and a shout. Not at the end of his gun, or looking up at him with a shocked expression after he'd shot it, but holding his face and caressing his cheeks like the mother he once knew. He'd longed for her embrace, her undying love and support. He missed her so unbearably much.

"Ana?" He murmured back, delirious, hands shooting out and grasping in front of him. He gripped her sides, fingers fisting in the fabric there. "You're here? For me?"

"Ana?" Ana said. Her voice seemed unusually deep. "Jesse, please listen to me. You are in Shimada mansion. I need you back."

"Back to Overwatch? I-I can't…"

Ana gripped his face more firmly, fingers threading through unkempt hair. She'd grown so strong. "Jesse McCree, I am not Ana Amari! I am Shimada Hanzo, and I need you to focus on me!"

"H-Hanzo?" Jesse blinked open his eyes, meeting the intense face of _fuck,_ indeed, _Hanzo_. His fingers flexed at the archer's sides, knuckles white from gripping the man's vest so hard.

"I am here," Hanzo soothed with a caress to Jesse's beard. "I am sorry for not being here sooner, not realizing the severity of your mental state. I will stay as long as you require me."

Jesse realized they were slotted together, kneeling on the burgundy hardwood floor of a random study. Alone. Where had Zarya gone? Hanzo? Why was he here? Why… why anything? How was Jesse still _alive?_ "I don't- I don't get it…"

"Focus on me, clear your mind, calm your heart." Hanzo's hands felt cold against his clammy skin.

Jesse choked. "I can't… why are you-?"

"You are forgiven for any wrongdoings." Hanzo hushed. "Do not fret. Healing takes time, and you are strong enough to survive the process. Take as long as you need. I am right here. I have nowhere else I would rather be."

And there he was indeed. The infamous crime lord and assassin, known for his icy demeanor and ruthlessness, right in front of him, holding the gunslinger upright with impossibly gentle hands and an even gentler gaze.

Jesse's throat opened up after Hanzo's words, his voice letting out a wholly undignified sob for a man of his tenor. He crumbled, collapsing into the other man's form, seeking selfish comfort in the arms of someone he wouldn't ever deserve. Sweet and attentive. Hanzo Shimada was nothing like he'd ever expected to find in the dusty plains of backwoods America.

He wasn't Ana. He wasn't Fareeha. He wasn't Gabriel. He wasn't any of them. Not at all. But he was _Hanzo;_ and Hanzo, despite everything that had happened in the past few hours- few days- few months- felt like something akin to _home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter has now fallen under the inevitable "im tired of looking at this" sooooo HERE IT IS! ///confetti and sparkles///  
> \- As always, thank you for all of the kind comments, follows, kudos... everything <3 your support makes me so happy! It helps me trudge through tough chapters.  
> \- We are chugging closer and closer to the end :)  
> \- Hugs for Jesse, everyone. Hugs for Jesse.


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